#smut in previous chapters

[villainousshakespeare]

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 24

Loki/OFC Rated E: Trigger Warnings: Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved, drinking

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza  @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads  @alwida10  @justjoanne242 @chantsdemarins @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokiprompts @evieplease​

It had taken a satisfyingly short time to convince Thor and their mother that he was not going to be delayed in returning to Midgard. Friga had wanted to summon Eir and attempt to repair the sieve that they had made his memory. Thor had babbled some nonsense about danger if he set foot in the mortal's fortress. Loki had ignored them both with ease. The threat, made with just the right amount of intensity, that he would use his own weakened powers to access hidden paths to Earth were enough to have them both agreeing to bring him there themselves by a less strenuous route.

Loki didn't understand why they didn't just have the Gatekeeper open the Bifrost to the compound where this mortal woman was at present, but Thor was rather insistent that a stealthier course was called for. This was such an aberration from his brother's normal tendency to barrel in hammer first that both Loki and Frigga were quick to acquiesce, although their mother looked a little uneasy with the method it left to them.

"You do still have the Tesseract I assume, brother?" Thor had asked.

Another wave of sensation had rocked Loki, and he had to steady himself physically to avoid falling once again.

The Tesseract. Yes, the name filled him with something that was not quite comfort, but yet still offered a sense of relief. It was as if an escape card had been slipped into his pocket. It made sense; from what he knew of the Tesseract, container of the Space Stone, it could carry someone of sufficient mental strength to command it anywhere they wanted to go. One of the primal forces of creation, nothing he knew of would be able to stop it from taking him to Earth or anywhere else.

He had it?

Loki closed his eyes and mentally reached into his pocket dimension, paying much more attention than would usually be required in order to retrieve an item tucked away. He felt the auras of his usual items: knives, quills, paper, armor, anything he might need in his roamings, and dismissed them all. There were a few things he had not remembered adding, such as a rose-colored parka, some sort of projector, and a pair of sorcerous handcuffs. He would have to explore more later to see what else he had acquired in his missing days. There! in the midst of all the objects was a gently glowing blue cube that emitted a powerful aura.

Loki had pulled it out into the night air and held it aloft. How had he come to have one of the building blocks of the universe in his possession? It was yet another mystery to be solved. Right then however, he had been too concerned with the first problem. Who was this woman, this mortal of all things, who filled him with such a sense of need that he was willing to put his health at risk in order to find her and assure himself of her safety?

"Oh Loki, the Tesseract?" Frigga sighed in a voice he had been hearing his entire life.

"Apparently," he shrugged, tossing it up and catching it just for the effect. He couldn't have them realize how off his game he truly was after all.

"Give it to me, you are in no condition to use it."

"Mother -"

"Do not try to dissemble with me! You can barely stand on your own accord, how do propose to control an artifact of such power? More like than not you would end up on some random moon if you tried on your own. If you want to go, and must go now, then you will let me provide the guidance. End of discussion."

When it came right down to it, he had not been feeling at his best, and if there was any person he trusted to turn over such a weapon to it was his mother. Reluctantly he had handed the cube to Frigga and seen her breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thor, you know where this place is where Loki's friend is being kept?" Frigga asked in a brisk tone.

"I believe so," Thor answered. "My guess is that friend Stark should have been able to keep her in his rooms, rather than seeing her put into the prison."

"His rooms?" Loki growled, not liking the sound of that one bit, even though he had no idea who the person they spoke of was.

"A very large suite, Brother," Thor hastened to assure him. "Several rooms. In any event, you need not fear. He is only a little fellow, and a mortal, though fierce in battle."

"I fear nothing," he had said automatically, still not liking the situation Thor presented.

"Alright," Frigga had cut through their discussion. "Each of you place a hand on my shoulder, like when you were children. Thor, I am going to enter your mind; visualize where this woman would be for me. As much detail as you can. Loki, no over-extending yourself, but gently reach for me. That's it. Now, brace yourselves my sons."

The teleportation had taken more out of him than Loki cared to admit. Frigga's firm arm locked with his had been all that kept him steady as the terrace around them disappeared and reconfigured itself into some sort of sitting room filled with human furniture in silvers and grey. He was grateful for her discrete support and shot her a quick look of thanks while Thor shook off the trip like a pet emerging from a lake.

Too late he had reached for the Tesseract, only to see Frigga turn her wrist and remove it to her own impenetrable storage with a smile that dared him to protest. Well, that too would be a battle for another time. He had to find this person. This doctor. His heart screamed that everything else was second no matter how much his intellect told him otherwise. It was extremely irritating.

"Where is she?" he had demanded of Thor, looking around and not seeing anyone.

"Calm down Brother," the note of ill-concealed amusement in Thor's voice rankled to no end and made him itch for his knives. "I told you the suite was large. She should be here somewhere, assuming Pierce didn't kill her."

And then a dagger had been in his hand, and a snarl escaped his lips. If anyone had laid so much as a hand on her, he would make them long for an easy death.

"Loki, control yourself," Frigga had snapped at him. "And Thor, show some respect for your brother's feelings. I am sure that this Doctor Thorpe is safe and near. Ah, I think I hear voices coming from that direction. Thor, perhaps you should lead, since you are friends with the Mortal who's home we have invaded."

Loki had showed his opinion of that plan by roughly pushing past his brother and wrenching open the door out of the room. He could hear the voices then, though not what they were saying. One was low and masculine, the other had a bell like quality that went right to his heart. It was her. He would bet what remained of his soul on it. He had to see her. Once he did, everything would be right again.

Charging down the corridor, he had come at last to another room with couches, chairs, and a low table, artwork decorating the walls. He hadn't seen any of it. There, seated on one of the couches, had been Her.

He had known the minute his eyes clapped upon her. A relatively small woman, she was dressed in a grey sweatshirt several sizes too big for her that was rumpled and unflattering. Her hair, a mess of snarled curls, was tied up on the top of her head somewhat crookedly, several large chunks falling down at random. Deep, dark smudges shadowed her eyes, speaking of sleepless nights and tearful days.

Loki had never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

He had stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of her eyes. They were red and watery, but that could not disguise the sharp intelligence and, even more breathtaking, the kindness that shone forth from them. Those eyes, he had thought in a brilliantly clear moment, could take all the sorrows in all the world and make them bearable. Compassion, acceptance, and humor glinted in their bottomless depth. He wanted it, all of it, for himself.

Which made the fact that at that very moment they were shining on someone else, someone who was clasping her hand and smiling back at her, absolutely unacceptable.

An intense haze of red colored all before him. Loki did not know who she was, but he knew with a certainty beyond anything else that it was his eyes she should be staring into, his hand that belonged in hers. He would kill this worm of a Mortal for daring to touch the match to his soul. Menacingly, his grip on his knife tightened.

"If you want to keep that hand," he spoke quietly from the doorway, "I suggest you remove it from my Lady's. Now."

***

That voice, low and filled with menace, was the most wonderful sound she had ever heard.

Caroline's eyes flew from Matt's face over to the entrance. He was there. Standing in the doorway to the sitting room was the only man she would ever love. For the first time in over a week, Caroline's heart seemed to beat once more.

"Loki," she said, his name and nothing more, rising to her feet.

"In all my glory," he smiled, eyes moving over her.

Caroline felt a momentary pang of embarrassment for how she must look. Since the horrible incident she had taken the bare minimum of interest in her personal appearance, only doing enough so that her friends would stop hounding her about it. As her eyes took in Loki, however, she forgot her own state as his registered in her mind.

Loki had always been thin, although Caroline knew firsthand how much lovely muscle was hiding beneath his clothing. Now though, his cheeks were hollower and the soft green tunic he wore seemed to drape loosely on his frame. His beautiful pale skin contained even less color than before if that were possible, and his sharp eyes betrayed the slightest hint of exhaustion.

She had spent quite a bit of quality time with her alien prince; Caroline knew how carefully he guarded his appearance. If he was showing visible signs of fatigue, then he must have been in a bad way indeed. He was alive yes, but he had been hurt, grievously, and it was all her fault.

"Loki, I am so sorry," she stuttered, taking a step but not daring to approach closer. "I swear, I never meant to hurt you."

An odd look flickered across his face, and she realized that his eyes, which had become open and shining when he looked at her during their time together, were guarded once more. Of course. How could she expect anything else? She had shot him, almost killing him. Their relationship could not be the same.

"Doctor Caroline! You are here!" Thor bounded up to stand next to his brother. "You see Loki, I told you she would not be killed or incarcerated."

"I am relieved to see that you were right for once," Loki's eyes had still not left her face.

"Pierce tried, by Tony insisted on keeping me here," she said, wishing he would open his arms for her but not wanting to presume. "I guess for once the rich having undue influence worked in my favor."

"Ah, well I suppose I owe you thanks then," Loki's voice did not sound particularly friendly.

To her surprise, she found that his eyes turned away from her to gaze improbably to Matt with an open hostility.

"No, Brother, that is not friend Stark," Thor whispered loudly in Loki's ear. "I know it is difficult, as most Midgardian males look the same, particularly the smaller ones. I myself have made similar mistakes in the past."

"Matt Murdock, attorney," Matt said, extending his hand.

Thor shook Matt's hand with enthusiasm, but Loki only looked at it. Matt waited a moment, and then pulled it back with a shrug.

"I take it you are the Asgardians," he said.

"Oh, yes. Matt, this is Loki and Thor. Princes of Asgard," she didn't know what Loki's feelings were for his family at the moment, but he and Thor seemed to be forming a united front.

"Although they are not acting like it at the moment," a female voice dripping with disapproval added.

Caroline tore her eyes away from Loki with an effort to see a tall woman come up to stand beside him. To call her beautiful would be an understatement. Tall and regal with intricately styled red-gold hair, the woman personified grace. Caroline at once felt even more bedraggled in comparison.

"Forgive us, Mother," Thor lowered his head, but Loki kept his green eyes flickering between Caroline and Matt.

Mother. This was Frigga, Loki's mother and Goddess in her own right. Of all the times to be introduced to her, Caroline could not think of a worse one. Not only did she look like a street urchin, but she had committed an act of violence on the other woman's son.

"Your Majesty," she said, dipping her head since there was no way she was going to try a curtsey.

"Ah, so you are Doctor Thorpe," Frigga said, giving Caroline a quick once over that she was sure saw every inch of her.

"I am."

"My son has been anxious to see you. I am pleased to make the acquaintance of one so dear to him, although I could wish the circumstances were different."

"I'm honored."

"You are honored, she is pleased," Loki drawled, looking around the room. "Now that we are done with that, all of the rest of you to go away."

"Loki!" Frigga chastised.

"Very well," Loki said with a melodramatic sigh. "I would very much like for everyone to kindly leave Caroline and I alone. Now. Better?"

"Barely," his mother allowed. "Very well. We will wait in the next room."

Frigga turned and departed with an encouragingly smiling Thor. Matt began to follow, but stopped at the last minute, putting one hand on Caroline's shoulder and looking disconcertingly straight at her.

"You'll be okay?" he asked her.

"Far more than you will be if you keep insisting on touching what you shouldn't," Loki said dangerously.

"I'll be fine," she lied, thinking she was like to combust on the spot.

"I'll be right next door," Matt ignored him. "My hearing is excellent, so just yell if you need me. Loki, it's been educational."

With an ironic twist of his expressive lips, Murdock followed the Asgardian contingent out. Caroline noticed the way Loki's glare tracked him, and she felt a horrible surge of excitement. Surely if he was that unhappy with Matt's attention to her he couldn't have completely written her off.

The door shut, and they were alone. Caroline stared at Loki in exquisite torture as he remained silent. She had hoped and wished for nothing more than to see him again, alive and well. No matter what happened, she would be forever grateful that he had survived the blast she had shot him with. Still, it was hell to be so close to him and not touch him, not assure for herself that he was real and there and whole.

Finally, when she thought she might explode, Loki walked the few short steps and stood looming over her. One of his long, elegant fingers traced the side of her face, and Caroline let out a trembling sigh at the contact. His eyes, hooded and revealing nothing, captured hers and seemed to bore deep inside her soul, looking for something. She would have happily given him anything in that moment, if he had only named. it.

"My love," he said at last.

Just those two words, but Caroline let out a sob nonetheless, throwing herself into him and tightly wrapping her arms around him. Loki smiled, lifting her chin and claiming her mouth for a long, desperately needed kiss that nourished her more than any meal could ever do. He did not hurry, letting his hands explore her body as his tongue did the same to her mouth. It was searching, like his gave had been, giving her the chance to relearn how it felt to be in his embrace. When he finally pulled away, it was to sink down onto the sofa, bringing her down next to him. She felt at home and safe at last after the nightmare of the past days.

"So, you are Caroline," he mused, looking at her. "I am relieved to know what good taste I have."

As she stared at him in shock, Loki burst into manic laughter.

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi cutie!

I've, incredibly, keep on writing the same fic for one time in my life, so i'm posting the second part of the first part (obviously) of the whatever i've wrote.

I like writing. It's a little difficult switch from my italian kinda writing skill to the english language.

I feel less poetic in english. More...meh. Dunno.

Anyway, we do not have that much of a smut content in here, just...talking. A lot of talking. I like dialogues.

Sorry for every incorrect grammatical things, i hope i haven't made a complete mess.

DISCLAIMERS: not that much of a smut thing, anyway is GhostxReader, arguing, terrible nicknames, gym, blame shifting, not having breakfast, recalling of behaviours that shouldn't belong to a military base but oh well.

..................................................

First part is here:

https://www.tumblr.com/tassodelmiele/746173281244151808/noisy-little-mess?source=share

..................................................

Next day, you skip breakfast.

Your ass hurts like hell, you've got bruises on your neck and it seems like you've gone through a fight with the full cast of a Jason Statam's kinda film.

You rush through all the damn base like crazy, avoiding smiles and greetings, in search for that goddamn man who has to give you explanations.

'Cause that sort of thing doesn't happen between two who barely speak at breakfast. 

'Cause you may find muscles attractive, but you've never told him you like him in particular.

'Cause he almost ravaged you, without even saying "goodnight".

And 'cause you've liked it. But that's not necessarily to be known.

You're about to go straight to the training camp (you've seen Soap nearby, and he's Ghost's shadow), when the wanted finds the detective: a door suddenly opens, and you bump into his goddamn big chest, almost drowning your nose in that rock solid-muscle softness pile.

Ghost looks at you like he's just stepped on a candy wrapper. You open your mouth, ready to yell:

«ok, now you're going to tell me, sir, what in the actual fu-»

Then, Price gets out of the office too. And your face blushes with the brightest red.

«…sorry»

«'s nothing. We've finished»

It seems like Ghost's trying to make you comfortable, and that just gets on your nerves. You look at the captain walking away, and before having the opportunity to speak again, the lieutenant has grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you in his office.

You do your best not to trip over your feet, almost making a pirouette to face him as he closes the door. You open your mouth, prepare your lungs to yell like a fucking eagle…and he stops you, cupping your face with all of the grace he's capable of, looking at you through his goddamn scary skull mask and spells:

«I'm sorry»

And your brain goes blank. 

You squeeze your eyes; you weren't ready for this. For a scold; for a joke, for him to make fun of you, for you to break his terrible per holder on his face…but not for this.

«…what?»

«I'm sorry. Fucking sorry, ok?»

«Yeah, yeah» you scroll his hands away from your face. «I'm sorry too for having my ass burnt and my fucking neck disassembled, that's not the point»

«I was just saying-»

«You were saying nothing»

«If you-»

«Sorry for what? For your kinks, or your lack of asking consent? Go on, i'm listen-»

And he ends up squeezing your face in his hand, glaring at you while you just stay still with your cheeks pressed together and your arms crossed, raising an eyebrow.

He sigh.

«You've caught me off guard»

You muffle, widening your eyes, about to try to say something but his grips tighten a little.

«Let me fucking finish! Bloody hell, you weren't so noisy yesterday! My god…look, 's not a great time to restrain instinct, ok? I'm not saying that you've…awakened something. You're not my type, anyway»

You start to move again in his grip, trying to punch him, but it's so easy for him to stop you.

«I just want to apologize 'cause i've acted by instinct, and is no good. And 'cause I've hurt you, of course»

He stares at you for five seconds before releasing his grip, and the first thing you say is:

«…not your type? Seriously?»

His eyes widen under the mask.

«You…is this really what you're interested in? Out of everything I've told you?»

«You haven't told me that much»

«What the hell-»

«And you're lucky i've liked it, otherwise i would have smash the whole set of weight on your face»

«Yeah, Yeah, sure, a gnome like you»

«I'm a gnome in berserk armor»

«Still a gnome»

«Fight me»

«I'm not wasting my time in a prison for your dead body»

«...weak»

«…don't you dare, rookie»

«Rookie a pair of nuts»

«Watch you fucking mouth»

«I can't do it, there's no mirror in here»

«…ok, maybe your murder is worth a life in prison»

«You're eating away your guts just 'cause i'm having the final say»

«No, but i'm going to eat your guts anytime soon» 

«Try me! Fight that fucking gnome! Then, you're gonna make better apologies»

«My apologies were flawless»

«You said i'm not your type! After…after making a mess out of me!»

«I've said, if you would have listen, that I was lead by my goddamn instinct»

«Yeah, and since when instinct tells you to ravage alone girls in the gym?»

«Since when i've heard you-»

He suddenly stops. Your mouth is still open, ready to talk back, when he starts to push you by the shoulder in order to get you out of his office immediately.

«Time is finished» he says as he tries to get rid of your presence.

But you're not ok with him.

«Nonononono, don't you even-»

«I've told you everything i had to»

«Fuck your excuses! You didn't even make me come!»

That wasn't a challenge. But somehow Ghost's brain classified it as such.

And the same night, in the gym, different machines…you spot him looking at you.

And your panties get instantly wet.

«No» you suddenly say. He gets closer.

«"No" what?»

«No. I won't»

«What?»

«Don't tease, you know "what"»

He doesn't listen to you, and starts a whole different topic: 

«Wanna know something fun, kitty?»

«Can you find another nickname, please?»

Ghost's eyes make a turn under the eyelids, as he repeats: «Wanna know something fun, gnome?»

You make a pout, and he goes on:

«you've been the only one with enough guts to yell at me since fucking forever»

«Well, you've been the only one to touch my panties since…fucking forever. We're fair»

«…you mean it?»

«What?»

«No boyfriend? No sex? Never?»

«Never. Don't make fun of me»

«Why should i?»

«Dunno. An almost thirty years old is suppose to have made something in her life»

«You're working. And living. That's enough»

You're about to grab a weight, but you leave it there, looking at Ghost through the mirror.

«…oh»

He raises an eyebrow.

«…oh? That's the most sensible thought you've got?»

«It's just…i've thought…well…»

«What? What was that little brain of your thinking?»

Your face blush like hell as he comes closer, every step of him is a skipped heartbeat for you.

«I-i've just…i've thought that someone like you may be more…demanding?»

«You don't know me» he towers you in all of his highs «little gnome. 'S dangerous making assumptions on your enemy without collecting intel, don't ya know?»

«You're not an enemy». You swallow, finding yourself hesitate. «…i believe»

«You don't seem so sure about it»

And then he gives you the most threatening, close up encounter with his mask, leaning on you like an eagle on a mouse.

«How come, little gnome?»

You swallow. Than you remember he's your fucking lieutenant, and you're in the base gym, and there shouldn't be nothing to worry about, really. And you feel like an idiot, blushing and lowering your eyes. You decide to use his weapons against him:

«…it's dangerous making assumptions on your allies without collecting intel»

And he stares at you, seeming happy with your answer.

«You do are a brat, don't you?»

«I'm the cutest rookie in the entire base»

«Someone's going to make ya eat that goddamn tongue of you»

«They're just jealous»

«'s not like that»

«…No? Than w-»

«You can't talk back to your superior. You'll end up getting in trouble»

You instantly blush, blowing your cheeks.

«I've never-»

«You're doing it right now»

You blush more, become as red as the goddamn Snow White's apple. Your mouth is finally shutted, and he seems proud of his work. You try to make a step back, gaining some distance between you and his massive body…but he follows you. He follows you and he gets closer, trapping you between him and the weights rack.

«I…don't think i like brats that much» 

Ghost is not touching you, but somehow you shiver under his voice as he's drilling your ears.  

«I like you more with your little mouth shut»

The last word is perfectly underlined by his voice; another shiver down your spine, and you try to fill the silence to not explode under his presence:

«I'm afraid i'm not that good at staying silent, sir»

And he grabs you by the cheeks, squeezing them in one hand without effort, leaning on you as his gaze catches your red face:

«You did a great job yesterday, kitty»

And you melt in your panties. You do it with a little bit of regret just 'cause you'd rather endure a little bit more. You're about to say something, even if you know that as soon as you open your mouth the only thing that'll come out is a moan, and…

He releases you, so suddenly you've to concentrate not to lose balance, stumbling on your feet. He grabs a weight, announcing dramatically:

«But i've seen you've got your mouth fucking open the 90% of the time. That's why you're not my type, little gnome»

«But…you've searched for me»

He stops, holding the weights silently; he's not looking at you, but you know he's waiting for you to keep on with the speech. You swallow again, your throat is almost dry now.

«I know you've heard me. That night. You've heard me…touching. And-»

«So what? You were loud»

«Not that much- anyway, you've come in the gym just for me, i know it»

«No way»

«None come to the gym that late»

«But you were there»

«I'd a busy day- but that's not the point! I wasn't even watching you!»

He hiss a: «liar» in the middle of a curl. You cross your arms.

«…ok. Ok, MAYBE i was, but just for one goddamn sec-»

«So you do like me»

«FOR GODDAMN-»

You shut your mouth, biting your lips before saying something that could cost you way worse than a scolding by your superior. Your feet stomp till the biggest weights you can lift, and you start your rdl sets, knowing you're gonna hurt your back.

But he's looking. He's looking through the mirrors (too many goddamn mirrors in this gym) and it hurts your pride how he's acting like he doesn't care that much. So you take a deep breath, and while resting after the first set you spit it out:

«So you've touched me just 'cause you've felt like discharging some frustration?»

His arms suddenly stop moving. He turns his gaze at you, watching you directly this time, as you keep on:

«'cause, you know, since i'm not your type i can't find other reasons why you should've come to do those things. My appearance doesn't turn you on, so you've just found the first random person to use»

You lift the weights again, ready to release your bomb:

«So childish. It's not that mature for someone in your position»

You have no time to get aware of him who's just thrown his weights on the floor, reached you in two big steps, and now he's taking your weights from your hands like they're light butterflies, also throwing them on the floor.

He's towering you again, fists clench and hazel eyes on you.

«…it's your fault»

Your eyes widen. You've expected something different.

«Uhm…what?»

«That's why my apologies were good enough for you. 'S just your fault»

«What the hell of a fault did i-»

«You did it on purpose. Those…those fucking sounds of yours, your bloody behave, everything. Goddamn. Everything»

«How?? How could-»

«I don't know, you bloody witch!»

«So learn to know yourself better!»

«Maybe you could behave like a normal human being!»

«I was!»

«Liar. Bloody liar, you've spent the most of the time jerking on every fucking chair you were touching»

«You're hallucinating»

«And you've walked with closed eyes if ya didn't even notice what the hell you were doing»

«I'm not some animal in heat!»

«You looked so!»

«You could've just asked me to stop instead of wetting your hands in my panties!»

«I-»

This is his time to bite his lips, choking words behind the mask. He stares at you, and you return the glare, arms crossed and ice cold eyes on him, pretending not to feel the wetness in your underwear.

He sighs.

«I could crush you with my bare hands»

You stay still, eyes wide open, hands buried in your sweatshirt, asking yourself why the hell does he seem so embarrassed out of nowhere. Ghost sighs again, louder, blowing hot air away as if he's trying to discharge his lungs from something heavy. 

«It's been days you walk everywhere with those goddamn swallowed eyes of yours, adjusting your panties under the uniform, trembling at the tiniest touch…what the hell did you expect? To not be noticed? You, a little whimpering knot tied on itself?»

Your mind gets blind for a second.

You listen with your eyelid twitching. It is…unreal. He's not describing you, that's what you try to get in your brain, convincing yourself that you've not behaved as he's saying. 

You start to mutter through your teeth: «…but…no, no way, i'm not that-»

«Shameless? Dunno, have you ever tried looking at your fucking face in a mirror?»

«I-»

«Look little one, if you don't believe me, just ask someone else. Everyone have noticed»

«But-»

«'s not that i'm scolding you 'cause of your hormones. I'm just explaining myself»

«You…you're not explaining shit!»

«I am»

And he leaves you like this, curled on yourself, insecure and embarrassed. He turn on his heels, sending you a few last words:

«Ask the others 'bout it. The answer will surprise you»

......................................

[claymorexpunisher]

Lock & Key (Ch. 5/?) (18+ Fic)

Pairing(s): Drew McIntyre/Fem. Reader

Summary: Reader discovers something...interesting about her boyfriend, Drew while using his computer.

DISCLAIMER: This is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I try to tag my work appropriately, so if you choose to click on my work regardless, use your own discretion. Thank you for the love always and enjoy this cheesy porno! 🥂

Tags: Domme/Sub, 18+, Fem Dom, chastity, orgasm denial, oral sex... more tags TBD.

Total Word Count: 6, 977

Upon hearing the lock twisting open on our front door, I was frothing at the mouth in anticipation of what was to come.

Drew had been on the road for weeks now and I was itching to have him with me.

I was itching to play, and to spend time with him.

And considering the cock cage he was confined in for the past few weeks, unable to do anything but take it off to shower or to go to the bathroom, I could only imagine how ready he was to be home…

My first order of business to get Drew fed, run him a warm bath, shower, and then… it was time to play.

I didn’t bother tying his hands to the bed.

I trusted that he’d be good and that he wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t told to do.

Drew’s chest heaved and his blue eyes became bright and glassy as my long red fingernails ran across his swollen, hard, and caged cock.

A smirk spread across my lips as I let my nails drag through the exposed areas of the cage, stroking over his cock in teasing, slow motions.

Inside, I was anything but calm and collected, but I forced myself to find some self-control.

“Since you were so good for me while you were gone, I think that you…” I leaned down to run my tongue along the metal bars that held Drew’s snug and I knew he could feel my velvety tongue touching several exposed patches of skin through the metal bars.

I almost moaned along with him.

Fuck…

“… deserve a reward.” I finished, looking up at him from my spot between his legs. “Don’t you?” I asked teasingly and I tilted my head as I watched Drew’s eyes follow one of my hands as I reached for the silver key that lay snug on a delicate chain between my breasts.

Chuckling as I watched his eyes flit from the key to my cleavage and back again, I gave his balls a squeeze.

“Answer me.” I demanded, smiling more as Drew gave a pained grunt before he answered my question.

“Yes, ma’am...! I’ve… I need- “Drew babbled, his bare chest getting redder and redder the longer I waited to remove the cage.

“What. What do you need, Drew?” I cooed, leaning back down to give his cock a few teasing kisses through the cage once again.

His thighs trembled as he tried his hardest not to buck his hips.

I wouldn’t have punished him even if he did because right now it was about him.

But still, my heart was always overflowing with love and adoration over the way he just trusted me to make him feel good.

“I need to cum.” Drew replied, nodding almost to himself as I finally, finally released his cock from its metal prison and I began to slowly stroke it.

Without the barrier of the cage, I was able to lay some kisses on the angry, swollen head, lapping up some precum as I went.

I moaned at the salty, tangy taste I had missed so fucking much and I giggled as Drew’s hips bucked once more.

Before he could look too apologetic, I shushed him gently.

“It’s okay, baby. This is your reward; you can do whatever you want… I can’t guarantee it’ll happen again, so… enjoy it.” I added in just to fuck with him.

I didn’t have to tell him twice.

His hands stayed at his sides, but his hips followed my mouth’s rhythm as my hands joined in to stroke what my mouth couldn’t reach.

“Please don’t stop, ma’am! Fffuck!” Drew moaned as I changed tactics and paid extra attention to the head of his cock, swirling my tongue, and closing my mouth around it, not quite bearing down entirely as I bobbed my head.

To my surprise- and utter delight, thick ribbons of cum hit my tongue and painted my lips and I giggled around Drew’s cock as he froze before he gave a loud moan.

His orgasm seemed to catch him as off guard as it caught me, and I kept sucking him off straight through it until his moans switched to small, needy whimpers.

As Drew slowly caught his breath, I slid my mouth off of his cock with a lewd pop and I took the time to remove my clothes and I laid down next to him on the bed, and I exposed myself to him, spreading my legs and getting myself ready.

I didn’t have to do much.

My pussy had been begging for it for weeks now and that need only grew more as soon as he came home to me.

“Ready when you are,” I moaned as my fingers worked over glistening folds and disappeared inside of me to stroke on that sweet spot, I wanted Drew’s cock to stroke for me.

From my spot on the bed I could see his limp cock coming back to life as he stroked it slowly, his hands smudged with crimson lipstick I had left behind around his girth.

Drew immediately settled himself between my legs and his mouth feasted on me, licking over my folds, before his mouth closed over my clit, making my thighs quiver.

I quickly pushed his mouth and brought him upwards, kissing him messily as my legs wrapped around his waist.

Drew gave a muffled groan of protest as I stopped him from doing one of his favorite things on Earth, and I chuckled in response.

“I promise I will let you do that later. That’s not what I need right now. I already gave you your reward.” I replied, my tongue hardening just a bit and letting him know that I was in control once again.

“Now.” I demanded, barely holding back a gasp as Drew finally slid home and I welcomed him easily.

Usually, I was on top, but I couldn’t really give a shit about that right now.

It didn’t matter anyway.

“Faster.” I ordered and my back arched with pleasure as Drew complied.

“Holy shit, I’ve missed you so much, ma’am!” Drew groaned as my walls squeezed him tight.

I knew neither of us would last long.

A few weeks apart was too much for us.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” I replied, panting hard.

My legs tightened around Drew’s waist, burying him deeper inside as I began to slow down, rolling my hips and setting the pace.

I gave Drew’s lip a sharp nip when he whined in protest.

“Slow down. I let you have your fun for a bit, and you already forgot who’s in charge?” My brow raised as Drew’s face got redder, but this time with embarrassment.

I slowly brought us to the peak of pleasure, kissing him every so often to almost remind myself that he was finally, finally home…

[filmbyjy]

JAM OUT - seven! a very much needed explaination [written]

synopsis > who knew you’d break the first rule of being in a friends with benefits relationship? maybe it was lee heeseung himself that made you catch feelings. either ways, he doesn’t do feelings and you knew that. as your relationship with heeseung strains so does the band. what happens then?

masterlist | previous | next

warnings: light smut but not entirely, I’m just talking about when the fwb situation started.

note: uhh this is different writing because unfortunately I did not save it anywhere before my account got deleted but hey, new writing (sort of)

you would be lying if you say you didn’t create that song for lee heeseung, the man who took your virginity. the same lee heeseung you’ve known since middle school.

yes, you knew heeseung since middle school. it was a shocker but didn’t want to tell anyone you’ve met him since then. so you kept it secret and just simply told everyone you knew him since high school.

one thing you did miss about heeseung’s middle school phase was the fact that he wore cute glasses, it adorned his chubby cheeks. you missed that but by the time high school happened.

lee heeseung was the hot topic of every grade. girls constantly lined up for him but of course heeseung never let you go. you were his one true friend out of everyone. until a little bit later, the boys came into the picture. along with yeji and ryujin. it was all great.

but falling for him was a huge mistake. you told yourself, you were not in love with him. it was impossible. not when he started playing with every girl’s heart! how could like someone so heartless.

and you did. you foolishly fell for lee heeseung. never confessing to him, watching your heartbreak left and right when he ignores you. it was painful.

painful enough for your own brother to notice. which is when jungwon devised a plan, he cant let his sister be sad. never. jake and sunoo became your distraction, all thanks to jungwon. however, you didn’t know. you simply thought they just wanted to be your friend. jungwon cant let you know that, it would break your heart.

first year of college happened and then decelis was formed. becoming a band was out of the ordinary but not exactly. not when you and heeseung were the ones who started this.

of course, in college everyone wanted to loose their virginity and you lost yours. it was all in the courtesy of heeseung. it happened on any fine normal day, one that you and heeseung grew accustomed to in your shared home.

it was warm out so you chose to wear some scandalous short skirt to classes, paired with one of your laciest underwear you had. you clearly underestimated the weather after and you were to lazy to change into something else by the time it started to get colder.

as you laid on your tummy, you moved around a little and your skirt rides up your thighs. you were sure lee heeseung was a pervert because he could clearly see your underwear.

“pull down your skirt, I can see your lacy panties.” heeseung says as he continues to type away on his phone, probably talking to some random hook up for the night.

you yelp, “what the fuck.”

“what? its a normal reaction for a boy to notice a girl’s panties are being shown.”

“uhhh no its not. moreover, you do not see me as a woman.”

“(name), you live with like hormonal boys. I am sure its a normal reaction and what do you mean we don’t see you as a woman?”

“well for one, you definitely do not see me in that light.”

“what do you mean?” heeseung sits up.

“you don’t think I’m worthy enough to be fucked.”

“(name), that’s complete bullshit.”

“then prove it.”

once you uttered those words out from your mouth, heeseung pushes you down onto your mattress. your hands on either side of your head. heeseung’s silver chain dangling just above you. the same silver chain that you gave him in middle school as a birthday present. it’s surprising to see him still wearing it after all these years.

“didn’t take you for a bratty bitch.”

“heeseung, let go.” you struggled under him.

“you wanted me to prove it, baby.” oh how the nickname gave shivers down your spin.

“i didn’t mean it literally.”

“oh really now? why does your body respond to my touch hmm? do you want me that badly?”

“no.”

“its bad to lie, babe.” your heart races a million times worst. heeseung’s eyes dripping with lust as he continues to stare down at you. your body betrays you and you whimper.

“im sorry. please, I need you.” with that, heeseung smirks. he leans down captures your lips.

part of you thought this was bad. friends shouldn’t kiss. it must’ve preoccupied your mind too much that you didn’t kiss heeseung back. he pulls away and looks at you with worry.

“you know, if you dont want this. we don’t have to do it.”

“no, its okay. take my virginity, lee heeseung.”

it was all that took for lee heeseung to actually take your virginity that night.

and apparently, he couldn’t get enough of you because he came back for more. despite not talking about it the day before. which hurt you though you knew it was a one time thing.

“lets become fuck buddies.” he asks on a random day in the living room.

you look around the living room, hoping none of the other boys were around, “what?”

“they aren’t around. I miss your body. you were the best sex partner I ever had.”

“oh so you didn’t miss me.”

“(name), you know what I mean.”

it was silent.

“fine. let’s be fuck buddies.”

there were rules implied in your sex buddy relationship. one, you were loyal to each other and no one could have another sex buddy. it seems as though you’ve underestimated heeseung because clearly, no fuckboy would keep his true words. 2 months later, the rule was long forgotten, heeseung continued to fuck around with other girls whilst fucking you on the occasion.

deep down it hurt you. it got you all mad.

and that’s when you realise…

you were falling for lee heeseung

again.

-

taglist[open]: @junnniiieee07 @lhsdiary @woniesbakery @cyuuupid @qimmylol @lhsng @beans-and-jeanes @starggukies @maybee-may @gu8ki @taetaemylovie @thealatte @nyfwyeonjun @sakunasrealgf @diestheticu @mingyuswrld @iloveoceaneyes @viagumi @mymeloem19 @enhasengene @lalalalawon @te44sng @ahnneyong @ii4enha-jwn

[elvenbeard]

I wanted to spend the morning drawing smut, but the cat decided to occupy my graphics tablet.

So instead I ended up writing smut 👀

[narukoibito]

Unravel Me - Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Harry finds his footing.

Note: This chapter is dedicated to all of you who kept reaching out, leaving comments, liking related posts, and letting me know you were still interested in this story even after all this time. I have no words for how touched I am. All of your words and encouragement made a difference. 

I intend on finishing this story, I just can't promise by when, but what I had planned to write continues to grow and mature in what I believe and hope is a better story than what I had originally planned. Thank you all for sticking with me!

FF.net | AO3 

*

“No, no, not like that.” The Muggle instructor interrupted Harry and Hermione mid-waltz. Their inharmonious movements made their shared haggard look all the funnier. 

“As if you were any better,” Harry shot at Ron and Ginny, who were sniggering in the corner. 

“Oh? Who’s the one still practicing?” Ron gloated. The instructor had decided to pull Harry and Hermione aside when they both still couldn’t get the movements right.

Harry’s classic sullen look only made Ginny laugh harder.

Their eyes caught, his sullen look shifting to something else. She bit her lip as a low heat stirred in her. She subconsciously smoothed a hand over her skirt. He followed the movement, his gaze ghosting over her body and making her skin tingle as if he were touching her. As he had last night when she had stopped by, late in the sheath of night.

“Harry!” Hermione warned just as Harry nearly led them into the boxy Muggle music device with the strange giant bug eyes. 

“Careful, that’s my future wife!”

“Stop distracting us,” Hermione scolded, even though she seemed pleased.

Harry flushed deeply and seemed keen on looking anywhere but Ginny. She smiled, that initial heat melting into warm affection. 

“Perhaps you should start here,” the instructor said, directing them further away from the machinery. “Let’s try a different song.” She fiddled with the device, and soon a new cheerful and theatrical stringed melody filled the space.

Ron and Ginny continued to watch in amusement as the other two tried once again to master the proper steps. Ginny leaned back against the wall, the sunlight filtering through the large studio windows warming her almost as much as seeing Harry and Hermione stumble through the dance another time. It was nice seeing him like this, normal and carefree, that weight on his shoulders lifted, even if it was only for a moment.

“You’ve been home a lot.”

She startled at Ron’s voice, her heart skipping a beat. She reluctantly slid her eyes away from Harry and Hermione to her brother. Ron held himself a little awkwardly, but there wasn’t anything in his posture that seemed to indicate that he might know of the few extra, private trips she had made recently.

“Is that a problem?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he bristled. “Merlin knows you’ve pulled Hermione out of a planning frenzy more than a few times. It’s just…You’ve attended more Burrow dinners recently than all of last year.”

“I was busy.”

“Busier than being a starter?”

“Yes, busy training my arse off,” she snapped, wrapping her arms around her chest. She didn’t appreciate the reminder of last year, of feeling alone and lost in Holyhead. All she had was training, of constantly getting back on her broom, tossing Quaffles until her fingers bled.

“I suppose,” he said slowly.

Ginny’s stomach churned. An unfortunate side effect of avoiding weekends with Dean had also meant missing her family. But it hadn’t been all Dean. After her parents had helped get her settled into her small flat and left, she had stood in her empty room, lost. She had tried to distract herself with unpacking, the buzzing under her skin crescendoing until the next thing she knew, she was sitting at her desk with a quill in her hand, a dark circle of ink swelling on the blank parchment.

Ginny had bolted, her legs carrying her directly to the training field. It had been easier to beg off and spend her weekend on the pitch, driving herself to exhaustion so as not to give her a chance to face the cacophony of feelings storming in her. 

But being home watching Mum forget what she was doing, probably unaware of how her gaze fell on the family clock, seemed even more unbearable.

“Hey,” Ron said, a frown furrowing his brow. “No one’s bothering you on the team, are they?”

She blinked. “No. Why?”

He shrugged, turning to peer out of the window. His ears started to redden. “Nothing. That’s good.” 

“I can handle myself, Ron.” She wasn’t sure whether her annoyance or affection was winning out.

Ron huffed, giving her a look. “Your contract must have some stipulation about hexing people.”

“You say that like I’d get caught.” Ginny dug her elbow into his rib.

“Oi!”

“Play nice you two,” Hermione called from across the room. Harry and Ginny’s eyes met once again, his face bright and amused by their antics.

Ron righted himself while Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. “I almost forgot how annoying you can be.”

“And you’re a bundle of joy.”

“Annoying,” he reiterated. “So annoying. One-of-a-kind annoying.” He rubbed his nose, looking away. “The kind that people notice when it’s missing…”

Grief sharply tugged at her. She knew immediately where his thoughts had drifted. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, tightening momentarily. She leaned into his side, the physical contact more comforting than any words.

“I reckon there are some perks to having you around. Hermione making cottage pie, for instance.”

Ginny snorted, remembering how excited he had been at dinner last night.

“And it helps with Harry.”

Her stomach flipped.

“Oh?” She glanced at Ron out of the corner of her eye, but his expression appeared guileless.

“Yeah, you give him some company.”

“I’m here to babysit Harry?” She resisted the urge to pull away, irritated on Harry’s behalf.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft. It just helps, you know. Since I left the Aurors and the engagement, Harry can’t – he hasn’t…” Ron shrugged. “We try to include him in everything, but he can be so stubborn sometimes, thinking he’s in the way. He’s less of a stubborn git when you’re around.”

“Hmm,” Ginny said, her throat tight. She wasn’t sure how to take that, whether or not to let herself think those traitorous thoughts that were, admittedly, cropping up more and more, despite her best efforts.

He had suggested dinner last time. He was more willing to come out when she was around.

It was just really good sex, she reminded herself forcefully. It didn’t mean anything.

Except that it was getting harder and harder to remember that.

Ginny swallowed hard as she refocused on Harry and Hermione dancing. He had looked so worn down when she arrived last night, she’d almost changed her mind. But there had been something in his expression when he saw her, something more than relief, something that had made her insides quiver. But then he had pulled her close, drawing her into a kiss that obliterated all thoughts.

She frowned now, taking note of the dark circles under his eyes that were often obscured by his glasses. He had fallen asleep almost instantly after they’d finished. The rare peaceful look on his face in the near dark had made her weak. Lying beside him in the sheets, their limbs still tangled together, she let herself pretend that maybe she belonged there until the slow rumbling of day began to trickle into the room before she finally slipped away. 

“He looks worse than usual, doesn’t he?”

Ron nodded. “He’s exhibiting all the telltale signs.”

“Of what?”

“One of those cases.”

Before Ginny was able to ask, the song ended dramatically. The instructor clapped brightly, even though her smile was a little strained.

“A bit more practice and I’m sure you will get the hang of it,” she assured Harry before turning to Hermione. “I do believe we should use the rest of the time to practice the main dance?”

“Oh yes, you don’t mind, do you, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Not at all,” Harry said, looking relieved to be free from the instructor’s attention.

Ron surprised Hermione from behind, spinning her into his arms. She looked alarmed but immediately relaxed into his embrace, pink dusting over her cheeks.

“While we work on the first dance, you may practice in the meantime,” the instructor advised Harry.

Harry made a face at her retreating back.

“You really seem to hate this,” Ginny observed.

“I don’t dance,” he said, that sullen look returning to his face.

“I don’t know, you weren’t so bad at Bill’s wedding,” she said without thinking. Immediately, she fought the urge to blush at Harry’s surprised expression. “Or I’m sorry, is it just cousin Barney who knows how to dance?”

Harry laughed, making her shiver from head to toe. Even after all this time, it still surprised her a little when she made him laugh. She hadn’t realized how much she missed being able to talk to him like this.

“Come now, youngest Seeker of the century, Dark Wizard vanquisher, Potions professor sasser”–Harry snorted–“defeated by a waltz?”

He shook his head, still smiling.

The music started playing again, this time something slow and sweet. Across the room, Ron and Hermione were being gently guided through new dance moves.

“Come on, what have you got to lose?” She would hate it if he spent Ron and Hermione’s wedding brooding.

“I don’t know,” Harry said softly, even as he stepped closer. She wasn’t sure if it was because he had been shorter before, Polyjuiced to be nearly her height, but her pulse jumped as she looked up at him.

“Think of it as flying. Think of your partner like your broom – lead and I’ll follow,” she blurted, and oh Merlin, why did his proximity and height make her nervous enough to babble?

Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly, and of course he picked up on the innuendo, but he seemed to take her words seriously. “Trust my partner.”

“That’s right,” she soldiered on, refusing to show her embarrassment. “Follow your instincts. The music is the rhythm of a Quidditch game. Pick a target and head there, avoid the other dancers, like Bludgers.”

“Right, well…” He coughed. “Would you be my Firebolt?”

He raised a hand out to her, grinning while Ginny laughed. Despite the flutter in her chest, slipping her hand into his felt like the most natural thing in the world.

She shivered slightly when his hand wrapped around her waist, where she could feel the warmth of him through the cotton material of her dress.

Why did this feel so much more intimate than when they were touching skin to skin?

“Try listening to the music,” she said, trying to distract herself from how she could smell something woodsy that inexplicably reminded her of Potions class, mixed with soap – soap that she had used in his shower. Great, good job, Ginny. Excellent.

Harry nodded, seeming to struggle with concentration himself. “Like a Quidditch game.”

She smiled at him, humoring her. “That’s right.”

“Lead and trust you’ll follow,” he seemed to say to himself.

They began to move together, his foot forward, her foot back, her foot forward while his went back to the rhythm. It started stilted, a tenuous rhythm between them in the uncertainty of their steps.

One-two-three, one-two-three… she counted along to the beat until the numbers drifted away as they fell in step with the music, his hand on her waist guiding them past other invisible dancers.

“Not bad, Potter,” she murmured as he led them to the other side of the room. “I thought you couldn’t dance.”

“I can’t,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear, somehow sounding deeper. She could hear his self-deprecating smile.

“Don’t let the Prophet find out. I’m sure it’s hard enough keeping the witches and wizards away already,” she joked, not at all nettled by the image she painted.

He didn’t immediately respond. Her stomach clenched when he continued not to speak. Had he sensed her underlying jealousy? Was he going to remind her that, whatever the physical attraction (because he couldn’t deny it now, could he?), they were just friends?

His grip around her waist tightened.

“Maybe I didn’t have the right broom.” He seemed to search her eyes for something.

Her chest gave a painful squeeze. He couldn’t mean…

She stumbled over her own foot, but Harry grabbed hold of her before she could fall. Her heart hammered in her chest. Their eyes met, and suddenly she was transported to last night, when he paused, his breath ghosted over her skin, before he leaned in, his lips brushing against her cheeks, jaw, neck, down to her collarbone as he—

“Ginny? Are you okay?” Harry asked, his green eyes flashing with concern.

“Sorry,” she said, a giggle spilling from her lips without her control. She brushed away hair from her face, hating that she could feel the heat against her fingers. “So much for being the right broom.”

“I don’t know, still the best one so far.” Despite his joke, there was something a little vulnerable in his smile that made her chest ache.

“Splinters and all?”

Harry chuckled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They smiled at each other, and though everything should have been awkward, it wasn’t.

He hesitated a moment before offering his hand again. “Try again?”

“Yeah,” she said.

They began dancing again, this time quietly. Ginny was more than a little lost in her thoughts, a part of her still not having recovered from his words. Had he meant it the way she was thinking? 

Was it his way of trying to preserve their friendship or was it something more?

Harry’s soft voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“When do you think you’ll be back next?” He tensed, looking as if he hadn’t intended to say that. “Er, if you want to tell me.”

“Need another pick-me-up?” Ginny tried to joke, because that’s all they were doing for each other. Right? Right.

Harry’s step faltered. “That’s not — I just meant—”

She took mercy on him. “With the season starting soon, this may be my last trip for a while.”

He cast his eyes downward, focused on fixing his foot movement. “Oh?”

“Gwenog banned us from traveling until after the first game.” She felt her stomach twist at the reminder. Truthfully, she shouldn’t even have come, but the dancing lessons had meant a lot to Hermione. Plus, if she were honest, she had wanted a reprieve from all the pressure after the latest articles speculating on the Harpies’ decision to gamble on a rookie.

“That’s right, your first game!” Harry beamed at her, looking awed in a way that made her flush with pride. “Against the Tornados.”

“You know?” Was it silly to feel so pleased that he was following her games, even if maybe it was just him being a general Quidditch fan?

“You’ll be brilliant. You are brilliant,” he said. “If you don’t believe me, believe George. He’s started a betting pool for how many points you’ll score.”

Ginny grinned. “I believe you.”

“My first game, I was so nervous. Couldn’t eat a thing,” Harry reminisced. “Seamus kept piling on ketchup over morning sausages, and the sight just made me sick to my stomach.”

Ginny laughed, feeling the knot inside her loosen.

“Must be nothing compared to going professional.” Something in his expression made her feel strangely exposed.

She let out a deep breath, then admitted something she hadn’t told anyone else: “Can I say that I am absolutely ready and simultaneously may throw up?” 

“If anyone can do it, it’s you. You single handedly won us the Quidditch Cup. I had let everyone down, I had let you down,” he said, shaking his head.

“You turned out to be right,” she reminded him, that fierce desire to defend him resurfacing. “Malfoy was a Death Eater.”

“Yes, well…” Harry said, “I still couldn’t stand that I had jeopardized the game. But against all odds, you did it. You caught the Snitch.”

The way he was looking at her made it hard to breathe.

The memories swirled in her mind, that unyielding determination to win. Rallying the team, coaching the Chasers, flying past Cho. Her entire body so keenly aware of the instant Harry had stepped into the common room, his stunned expression – the way his eyes had sought hers.

I won that game for you, she had never told him, but something shifted in his eyes, as if he seemed to hear her now.

“Anything is possible if you have enough nerve,” Harry said, sounding strangely winded.

Something beat wildly in her chest at the familiar words, something dangerously like hope.

Had she forgotten that herself?

“That’s right,” she said, unable to look away.

His eyes darted over her shoulder, to where Ron and Hermione were, then back to her. “After your game, can I take you out to celebrate?”

“That confident I’ll win?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “What do you say?”

His eyes were unusually bright and vulnerable, as if he were leaping off a cliff and looking back to see if she’d jump too. It was hard to think, let alone remember all the ways that what reflected in those eyes was nothing but friendship. Harry wouldn’t ask her out of guilt or misplaced gallantry, would he? Could she really be enough for him?

Don’t risk it, an icy voice hissed inside her.

But she could hardly feel the cold in Harry’s arms. Reckless hope blazed through her.

Fuck if Ginny Weasley didn’t have more than enough nerve.

“I guess I’ll just have to win,” Ginny said, her voice confident despite her feeling dizzy with the ramifications of jumping.

Something flashed in his eyes (relief? guilt?) only for a devastating smile to break over his face. She found herself grinning to match him, wanting nothing more than to pull him down to her lips—her brother, Hermione, the game be damned. Anything to make him keep looking that way.

“You’ll pummel the Tornados.”

She laughed, unburdened and warm like the sunlight streaming over them. “Something to look forward to.”

*

Harry felt like he must have drunk a vat of Felix Felicis, which was all the more surprising given his mental and physical state not twenty-four hours prior, poring endlessly over notes and clues. Preparing himself for another night of tossing and turning before Ginny had showed up at his door. And then pulling her close, desperate for her touch, not letting her go even as they slowly divested themselves of clothing, falling back onto his bed in the dark, everything fading into blissful oblivion, before waking up alone to find Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ready for their scheduled dance lesson, Ginny looking as if they hadn’t had mind-blowing sex several hours prior.

And now, now –

Ginny had said yes. Yes.

Well, contingent upon her winning the game (why oh why did he do that?), but this was Ginny, so there was a very good chance.

His chest swelled with anticipation, feeling like it could burst. He glanced at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, as if that would dispel the pressure. Clearly, he wasn’t subtle because her lips quirked up.

 “Careful,” Hermione said, catching him just as he was about to careen into a waste bin. She gave him an odd look.

“Thanks.” He tried to school what must be a ridiculous expression on his face.

“I reckon you can give the dancing a rest now, mate,” Ron guffawed.

“Nargles in the way?” Ginny asked, her eyes glinting. Harry was more than fine with that.

“Must be it,” Harry said, unable to stop the grin on his face.

Hermione hushed them, gesturing toward their destination. “Don’t forget that this is a Muggle pub.”

“After you, my future wife,” Ron said grandly, bowing as he held the pub door open for Hermione. She shook her head at him but looked pleased all the same.

It was a cozy pub that looked like it hadn’t changed in decades, with low ceilings and dated furnishings. Its likeness to the Leaky Cauldron made Harry feel right at home despite the television displaying a rugby game. Several patrons seated at the counter groaned in unison when someone missed a penalty kick.

“Is that a telly-vision?” Ron asked, pointing.

Hermione shared a wry smile with Harry before answering. “Yes, Ron, but it’s tele-vision, not telly-vision. Or just a telly.”

“Dad would love this, wouldn’t he?” said Ginny, entranced. Harry’s stomach did a little flip, wondering if maybe he should take her to other Muggle destinations. Like on a date.

Harry really had to stop staring before Ron noticed.

“He’d go mad for it,” Ron confirmed, pulling out Hermione’s chair for her.

Hermione smiled at Ron as she sat. “We ought to bring him sometime.”

“What sport is that?” Ginny asked, sitting down. Harry took the seat beside her.

“Rugby,” Hermione confirmed.

“Just one ball?” Ron asked, squinting. “That sounds way too simple.”

One of the teams scored, and the onlookers cheered.

Ron shook his head affectionately. “Muggles.”

“Say what you will, but I wouldn’t mind Quidditch being broadcasted on one of those things,” Ginny said, scanning the menu.

“That’s right! Your game,” Ron said. “You’ve got extra tickets, don’t you?”

Harry’s heart stumbled in his chest. Tickets. He didn’t have tickets!

He had been planning on buying them, but then the Cranleigh case had landed on his desk. How was he going to celebrate her win if he wasn’t allowed in the stadium? The image rushed into his mind – him at the gates, locked out of the stadium, and Ginny deciding to celebrate with ticket-wielding wizards who had had the foresight to buy season passes.

“Just the few they gave us for friends and family,” Ginny said. Was it just Harry’s imagination or did her gaze linger on him a beat longer than necessary? “But a teammate had secured a bunch of spares for family visiting from America, but something came up and can’t come anymore.”

“What rotten luck,” Ron said gleefully. Hermione frowned at him. “What? Why let those tickets go to waste, am I right?” He turned to Harry for support.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, hopefully not too eagerly.

“Do you want to come?” Ginny asked him, something careful in her voice.

“Yes, of course,” Harry said instantly. His cheeks heated at his earnestness. “That is, if you want me to.”

“Yes, I have enough for everybody,” Ginny said, smiling softly at him. The urge to pull her close surged in him.

“I’ll be there,” he reaffirmed stupidly.

“Ah-ha!” Ron said, making Harry jump in his seat. “I knew it. Next time we want to drag Harry away from work, we get him Quidditch tickets.”

“I’ll take it,” Hermione said, her eyes shining as she smiled at Harry.

Harry snorted, lifting the menu to hide his face until his flush subsided. “What’s good here?”

“They’re supposed to make a very good Scotch egg here, so how about starting with a few of those?” Hermione suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Ginny said.

“Don’t forget the pints,” Ron said. “I was promised pints. You promised me pints, Hermione.”

Fifteen minutes and one explanation of Muggle darts later (“but what’s the point if they don’t explode every once in a while?” Ron had asked), Harry bit into his scotch egg, halved and slightly runny, with a generous smear of onion chutney. Hermione was right; it was very good.

“Say, Ginny,” said Ron, who had finished both halves of his scotch egg and was beginning to eye Hermione’s plate.

Ginny automatically shielded her plate with her free hand. “Not a chance.”

Ron huffed in indignation. “I was only going to ask when is your Portkey.”

Harry’s fork stopped briefly in midair as he glanced at her.

“In a few hours,” she said, checking the clock on the wall. Only a few more hours before he wouldn’t get to see her for over a month.

“What do you say to a friendly game of Quidditch after this?” Ron asked.

Harry perked up instantly, even as Hermione groaned.

“Only if Hermione wants to,” Ginny said fairly.

Harry and Ron turned to Hermione, faces eager. With his promotion and the Cranleigh case, he hadn’t had the chance to fly in ages.

“I’ll be on your team,” Ginny told Hermione. “You’ll barely have to touch the Quaffle.”

Hermione’s gaze slid from Ron’s face to Harry’s, neither of them deterred by facing a professional player if it meant a scrimmage.

“Fine,” Hermione said finally, and Ron openly whooped. She shook her head at him fondly. “Finish your pint,” she said, slicing her remaining egg and depositing half onto Ron’s plate. “You’ve got twenty minutes before happy hour ends if you want another round.”

Ron stared at his plate with open wonder. “See, this is why I’m marrying you,” he said, turning to gaze at Hermione in a way that made Harry terribly aware that he was single. Hermione blushed and tried to conceal her smile.

Harry picked up his pint at the same time that Ginny reached for hers. She rolled her eyes at him over her drink, and he grinned back at her before taking a long draught.

“I see why you like me around,” Ginny said to Ron. She leaned closer to Harry conspiratorially. Her arm pressed against his, sending goosebumps up his arm. “Making poor Harry suffer in his singledom all alone.”

“Beats the bickering and unbearable sexual tension.” Harry snorted. Ginny turned her head into his shoulder and laughed. He felt warm and light inside, almost like he could float away any second. “Aside from constantly trying not to die, the majority of my time was spent in a ‘will they, won’t they’ conundrum.”

“You needed something to take your mind off of Trelawney’s constant death predictions,” Ron said.

Harry lifted his hands in defense. “Without you both, they may all have come true.”

They all dissolved into laughter as they recounted their Hogwart days. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. Their table was cozy and comfortable, the atmosphere bolstered by a recently lit fireplace. He was suddenly overcome with nostalgia, the pub and company reminding him of the Gryffindor common room, and those days they’d come back from Quidditch practice, laughing and bantering with Hermione, who had been working on homework. He glanced down at Ginny, the coppers and gold of her red hair glowing in the firelight and lovely face bright with cheer, not unlike the ways he had watched her then, his chest warm with emotion and yearning.

She seemed to sense his gaze and looked up at him, a shimmer of something unnameable in her eyes.

“Should we get more drinks?” Ron asked.

“Hm?” Harry turned his attention to his best mate. A familiar fear flashed through him. What would Ron think if he really didgo on a date with Ginny?

Merlin, forget a date – what about all the activities they’d already done? The events of last night flashed through his mind, Ginny rolling on top of him on his bed, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

Harry stood up so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. He felt his face turn hot when they all looked at him in surprise. “I’ll get them. Drinks, I’ll get the drinks.”

“I’ll help,” Hermione offered.

She and Harry confirmed everyone’s orders before weaving through the crowd toward the bar. Harry leisurely scanned the rest of the pub as they waited for the bartender. It was much busier than when they had arrived, many groups and couples enjoying a weekend night out. He found himself watching a family with two small children, the toddler seeming very keen on pointing out the big dog outside to his dad’s, even as the parents tried to tend to their fussy baby. The parents had that look of exhaustion accompanying most parents with young children, but the dad turned to his son, grinning and ruffling his hair.

“Harry?”

The bartender and Hermione were looking at him. “Sorry?”

“Did I get everything?” Hermione listed off the drinks and food order clearly the second time.

“Yes, that’s right,” Harry said. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

When the bartender left to fill their order, Hermione peered up at him. “Everything all right, Harry?” Her eyes slid from him to the family he had been watching.

“Yes, fine,” he said, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“How are things going with the Cranleigh case?” she asked, something soft and knowing in her voice.

Harry shook his head, his chest tight. Three wizarding families had suddenly vanished within the span of two months in the parish of Cranleigh, where recently more Wizarding folk had decided to live amongst Muggles. Rumors were floating around that maybe this was a resurgence of old Pureblood prejudices, from people who weren’t so keen on the latest push for more Wizard–Muggle relations. 

He didn’t have to look at the photo he carried in his wallet, the one of the third family he received a week ago. He had already memorized it from all his staring, the endless loop of the Bakers, the youngest family to go missing. Mrs. Baker cradled her newborn, her husband’s arm secure around her shoulder, the two of them oscillating between waving and smiling down at their daughter.

“Maybe after Ginny’s gone, you can share some of those notes of yours,” Hermione said. He could tell she knew he was in a rut, having fixated on the clues by himself long enough to know he wasn’t getting much further on his own.

Harry smiled, gratitude tugging at him. “That sounds great, thanks.”

“You know,” she said tentatively. “I know this case is really important to you and you’ve been so busy with work, but have you…have you given any more thought to dating again?”

“Er,” said Harry, resisting the strong urge to glance over in Ginny’s direction. “Yeah, maybe.”

Hermione beamed at him, positively ecstatic. “Oh, that’s wonderful! Do you have someone in mind? Is she someone we know? Is there any way we could help? If it’s that new girl in the Improper Use of Magic Office, you know, the one helping with the Cranleigh case, I could put in a good word for you, you know I would.”

“Er,” said Harry.

“Or,” Hermione said, her eyes suddenly shining with tears. “Or…is he someone we know? Because that would be perfectly fine with us too, you know. The magical world is surprisingly forward-thinking when it comes to—"

“No, I—the, no, no she’s definitely a she,” Harry sputtered. “But thank you,” he added, feeling oddly moved.

“So who–”

“It’s just a thought. And probably nothing to act on until after the case,” he rushed on, grabbing hold of a reason to evade her questioning. After all (and this time his eyes nearly watered under the immense effort not to look at Ginny), nothing would happen until after her game. Hopefully, the case will be resolved by then.

Hermione squinted at him, but the bartender returned, saving Harry from having to answer anything else. They took the drinks and made their way back to the table, where Ron and Ginny were flicking small wads of paper at one another, clearly trying to see who could hit the other more.

Ginny smiled at Harry when he handed her drink to her. Her fingers brushed against his, sending sparks through him.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed Ron looking at him funny. “What?”

“I really thought you’d be more…” Ron waved his hand flippantly. “Wound up, with everything going on at work.”

“I have more than work,” Harry said. Apparently not very convincingly because Ron and Hermione share a look.

“Anyway, you look good,” Ron said finally. Hermione nodded, smiling brightly at Harry.

“Thanks?”

“Don’t get me wrong. You still look pretty knackered, but much better than usual,” Ron continued cheerfully.

“It must be the Quidditch,” Ginny said, her eyes gleaming with mischief over the rim of her glass. Under the table, her knee lightly pressed against his.

“Yes,” Harry said, struggling and failing to contain the way his lips curved up, the warmth of her presence radiating through him from where they touched. “That must be it.”

“Blimey, say something and we’ll play more often,” Ron said. “Next time we can get George and Bill.”

As Ron continued making future Quidditch plans, Harry pressed back against Ginny’s knee, a bittersweet mixture of contentment, longing, and anticipation flaring through him. He closed his eyes, savoring the assuring pressure of her touch, the comforting noise of the pub, Ron’s enthusiastic chatter and Hermione’s indulgent responses, and the delicate promise that hung in the air for the next time he would see her.

[colormepurplex2]

Dream For Us | Dreamscape

↳  Hyung Line x f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 2,682 ⚠️ MCD (but also not really?)/vehicle accident but it’s a HEA. Not many warnings, perhaps a little allusion to violence, and references/promises of sexual satisfaction.

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Life can sometimes be cryptically funny, ironic, or just plain cruel depending on how you look at it. You call your dad back as you are rushing out the door, glad to see your car sitting in your driveway. Last night is still a blur but you’ll have to focus on it later. Right now, you’re listening to your dad explain how your mom took a spill off the back porch and is having exploratory surgery to try and find an internal bleed in her abdomen.

You’re sitting at a stop sign, waiting for traffic to clear so you can turn onto the main road leading into town, still listening to your dad when it happens— that cryptically funny, ironic, or just plain cruel moment in life. The driver of the gravel truck coming from the quarry down the road was too busy trying to rub grit from his eyes, completely oblivious to the tiny car stopped at the stop sign, until the jarring impact and screech of metal on metal filled the air.

They say most accidents happen within ten minutes of home. You guess they’re right. Is that also another ironic point, or just being part of a statistic? It’s all fuzzy. Much like a dream, you catch flashes and fragmented images. Paramedics, flashing lights, and white walls. Then nothing.

It’s in this nothingness that you become aware of something. A small flicker of cognizance that builds to a lucid wakefulness. Their presence is the first thing you’re intimately aware of. It’s familiar, comforting in a way but confusing because you’re unable to discern why. That is, until things become clearer.

“Hi, beautiful.”

“What happened? Where am I?” You struggle to sit up, your equilibrium severely compromised, making you pitch wildly to the left. “Holy fuck, my head,” you gasp, clutching at your temple with the hand you’re not using to try and stabilize yourself.

Several pairs of hands land on you, keeping you from taking a spill off the stone slab you’re sitting on. “Easy, take it slow.”

Awareness pricks through the mental discourse. Your vision ebbs, fuzzing around the edges when you try to look around too quickly. The stone beneath you is bleached white with craggy pocks of moss green. You’re relieved to see you’re still wearing the jeans and t-shirt you put on when you left— “My mom!” You swat at the hands on you, frantically trying to scramble down from your perch.

“Hey, hey, your mom is fine. She always was, there was no accident.” Blinking rapidly, you finally latch onto a familiar face. Namjoon.

“Am I still dreaming?” you ask in a whisper, to no one in particular, as you absently reach up and prod a finger into his cheek. He feels real enough. Then again, your wild sex dream felt impossibly real, too.

He gives a small shake of his head. “This isn’t a dream, not really. You are in The Dream Kingdom.”

“You’re insane,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. Namjoon steadies you as you finally manage to slide off the stone slab. Your knees nearly buckle, but his hands on your arms keep you upright. “I need to get to the hospital. My dad told me there was an accident. My mom needs me.”

“Your mom didn’t have an accident. She’s fine. That wasn’t your dad that you spoke to,” Yoongi steps into your line of sight. “If you’ll give us a moment, we can explain. Trust us, please.”

“Trust you!? I don’t even know who you are!” It comes out more as a shriek than you intended. “Oh God, I’ve been kidnapped.”

“You do know us,” Seokjin insists, stepping up beside Namjoon. Hoseok follows, filling in the space beside Yoongi. Four men from your dream, claiming they’re real. “And we didn’t kidnap you.”

You’re shaking your head, opening your mouth to protest when a gust of piny air whips around you.

“Why is she here?” a man hisses, glaring at you through narrowed eyes. He immediately has you cowering behind the four men in front of you. “It’s not time for The Rite yet. Which one of you fucked this up?”

“Father,” Hoseok begins, “we had nothing to do with her arrival. We were preparing the glade when we felt her presence enter the Dreamscape. Something else went wrong. We only just got some intel fragments from the others. I sent them out to gather more.”

The stranger takes a step forward, seemingly intent on approaching you, but a roaring boom sounds in the distance and halts him in his steps. Chaos follows. Jungkook and Taehyung materialize in a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. They’re covered in grey smears, clothes torn, and chests heaving. Jimin arrives only a second later, his eyes clouded with barely restrained anger.

“Hypnos,” Taehyung grunts. He’s bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he tries to regain his breath. “Launched an attack the moment the oblation entered the Dreamscape. He’s blazing through the west quadrant and heading this way fast.”

“He knew we’d come here after feeling her presence.” Seokjin squares his shoulders and looks into the distance where there is the faintest cloud of ash rising.

Jimin clears his throat. “I followed back up in the human realm. The driver of that truck has remnants of sleep dust in his eyes. I caught whiffs of the limbic demon’s scent at the quarry before Jungkook and Taehyung called me back here.”

“All of this because my father can’t stand being considered a lesser deity,” the stranger huffs. “He’ll rue the day he named me Morpheus, God of Dreams.” With that final statement, he swirled into a vortex of golden sand that whipped in the direction of the rumbling ash cloud.

“I can’t do this.” You pat your cheek. “Come on, wake up. No more nightmares, please.” You smack yourself again, a little harder. “Wake the fuck up!”

Someone snatches your hand. “You’re not dreaming. This is real. You’ve been chosen for a very important role in maintaining a balance between the godly realms. You belong here, with us— with one of us.” You stare up into Namjoon’s dark chocolate eyes, looking for the lie. You find nothing but overwhelming truth. It’s like his touch lifted a veil from your eyes and mind.

“We’ve got a small problem to take care of,” Hoseok begins, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to draw your attention. “I promised before that I’d take care of you and I meant it.” Again, the words are clear and wholly truthful. You can’t find an ounce of the previous fight you felt to deny what’s happening.

“You three,” Yoongi gestures toward Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung, “stay here with her while we help Father secure the border.”

The four figures move in sync, gathering together before swirling away into the Dreamscape in a cloud of sparkling dust. “It’s going to be okay,” Jungkook says, breaking the silence after the others have departed. “Hypnos does this sometimes, it’s nothing to worry about.”

It’s pretty overwhelming, everything that’s happening. You find yourself bracing against the stone slab you woke up on. “Certifiable, that’s what this is. Fucking insane. God of Dreams? Hypnos? How can I believe this?”

“You know it’s true,” Taehyung levels you with a look when you glance up at his words. “I can see it in your eyes. I also can see the bond already forming between you and-“

His words are cut off as a mass of dust and smoke slams into the ground a few feet away. The three men with you shout, crowding around you in defensive stances.

You hear a cacophony of grunts and yelled obscenities. Bracing your hands on Jimin and Jungkook’s backs, you peer over their shoulders. In a tangle of limbs and bared teeth you first recognize Melrose. Gavin’s blue eyes find yours next and it’s hard to suppress the sound of surprise in your throat. “What the fuck?”

Morpheus appears on the other side of the pile, brushing off his pants with a look of disgust on his face. “No better than dogs. And to think, you’re my father.”

“Which means you should respect me!” The last figure in the pile stumbles to his feet. He’s large, a fierce-looking Viking of a man with glacial eyes, wispy blond hair, and cheeks red from anger.

“I’ll respect you when you act like you deserve it. I’m tired of this never-ending cycle. Every time you think you’ve gotten the upper hand, I have to prove you wrong. When are you going to accept the fact that Dreams are endless but sleep doesn’t last forever?” Morpheus moves around, taking in the three struggling figures. Melrose and Gavin are silently snarling at him while Hypnos has his heaving chest thrust out along with his chin. Hidden bindings hold them in place, their disheveled clothes and hair as wild as their eyes. “I won’t stand by while it happens again. I’ll let Zeus handle it this time.”

The color immediately drains from Hypnos’ face. “Please, my son, there is no need to get Zeus involved. I swear, this won’t happen again. You know how restless I can be, it was just good fun.”

“Good fun!?” Hoseok snaps, appearing with the others just behind you. “Is it good fun to have your minions following our oblation for years, plaguing her with endless nightmares? Is it good fun to have our oblation ripped from the mortal realm before her time?”

With each additional query, Hypnos shrinks in on himself until his chin has sunk between his shoulders. “We found your little pests trying to break through the spell around Ithid,” Yoongi states. That has Morpheus’ attention snapping up and narrowing on Hypnos. “So, tell me, was that good fun, too?”

“You were trying to sabotage the entire Dreamscape?” Morpheus hisses out in a low, menacing voice. “You’d watch my Kingdom crumble because you’re jealous? Pathetic.” With a flourish of his hand, Hypnos and his two companions vanish. “Let’s see how they enjoy spending a bit of time with Hades before Zeus steps in.”

“What do you suppose will happen to him?” Seokjin asks quietly.

“It’s hard to kill a god, but I imagine his powers will be passed on to someone else at least. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened and probably not the last.” Morpheus sighs and claps his hands together. “Now that that irritation has been taken care of. It’s time to get back to business. Who’s going to be taking the oblation?”

Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung step away from you. You suddenly feel very exposed with all eyes fixed on you. “We thought it prudent to let her decide,” Namjoon explains, nodding in your direction.

“Interesting,” Morpheus muses. “Okay, then, I’ll allow it.” He steps up to you, towering higher than any of the others. “Tell me, girl, which one of my sons do you wish to choose as your life bond?” Your lips work, opening and closing, but nothing comes out. You’re not sure what the hell he’s asking. “Quickly,” he flutters a hand in front of him, impatient.

“Well, I- uh, I’m not sure what you’re asking,” you finally admit. “A life bond? Gods? Dream Kingdom? You’ll have to forgive me, I’m having a hard time processing all this information.”

A brief smile flashes over his lips. “Right, I forget how fragile human minds are.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Let me explain in a way you might understand. You see, I’m the God of Dreams. These are my sons,” he flicks a hand to include Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok, “and this is the Dreamscape, the Kingdom of Dreams, our home. It’s where we control all dreams of the mortal realm, the cosmos, and across various planes of existence. Our power is finite like anything else might be. In order for us to replenish and maintain the Dream Realm, we receive a small portion of the souls that pass to the afterlife. The souls we receive are called unlit souls, meaning they are divine and have been blessed by the Oracle but hold no angelic properties. That’s what you are.” The look on your face must betray your intention to speak out in protest. “Ah, don’t. It’s not worth the words, my dear. You are, indeed, one of these souls. Which is why you’ve been brought here. However unfortunate your means of arriving, you’re here nonetheless and my sons have decided you should get the honor of choosing which of them you, as an unlit soul, will bond with and become a beacon of power and strength for.”

“What if I don’t want to be one of these souls?” It’s a fair question. You have an entire life to live…or do you. “Am I dead?”

Morpheus’ lips twitch. “Apologies, but yes. Hypnos may have tampered with the timeline, but you were meant to arrive here all the same. Before you even think about it, please don’t ask me what your fate was intended to be. That’s not important. What is, is beginning The Rite and securing the bond. You’ll be happy here, you’ll be able to visit the mortal realm as you like, come and go as you please.”

“Do you promise?”

Namjoon steps forward. “We promise. Regardless of who you choose, we’ll all ensure you’re taken care of.”

You look them over, taking in the disheveled states that make them no less handsome. Yoongi has a sooty smear over the apple of his left cheek, but his eyes are locked onto you and there is a small smirk playing along his lips. You can’t help but think back to the way his palm met your ass with such a satisfying sting. “Is that what the dream was for? Trying to help me decide?” you ask, directing your question at the four Dream Demi-Gods. Seokjin licks his lips, catching your attention. The faintest hint of sweetness floods your mouth, reminiscent of the way his cock tasted on your tongue.

“It was,” Namjoon confirms with a soft chuckle. “Just a taste of what we can offer you, with a promise of so much more. Dreams have endless possibilities. That goes for ours, too.” His glasses sit slightly askew on his nose, a small dirt smudge marring the bottom of one lens. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, a gentle and easy demeanor that you know means safety. Hoseok draws your attention as he shuffles a little closer to the other three men that graced your dream. You recall Jimin’s words about remembering who gave you them. It dawns on you now, as Jimin gives Hoseok a sweet smile, that he’s the reason they were there. They took you away from Gavin and Melrose, who you now know was the cause of your nightmares, and they also indulged your fantasies before the others took over in your dream.

You chew your bottom lip, gaze dropping to the ground as you think. Finally, you bring your eyes up and meet those of Morpheus. “Could I choose all of them?”

Morpheus barks a laugh. “That’s absurd.”

“Is it, Father?”

“Doesn’t sound absurd to me.”

“I’ll accept that.”

“Hell yeah.”

All four sons exclaim over one another, agreeing instantly to your suggestion. Morpheus glares at them, his brow furrowing. “You realize sharing a soul will mean sharing the power?” They all nod, accepting that regardless. Morpheus shakes his head in disbelief. “What of the other three oblations? Will you share those, too?”

They all share a look, a silent conversation that you wish you were privy to. “You can have them,” Yoongi finally offers. “It doesn’t matter where the power gets bonded, as long as it’s to the Dreamscape, right? Let us have her and you can have any others.”

Morpheus mulls this over for a moment before shrugging. “So be it.” He disappears in another cloud of piny, golden sand.

“What is The Rite, exactly?” you ask tentatively.

Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung give you coy smiles. “Prepare the glade. Fewer clothes this time.” Hoseok nods to them and they vanish in their own cloud of vanilla air.

Four sets of hungry eyes then pin you in place. They stalk toward you like the apex predators they suddenly seem so much like. “The Rite, our dear sweet soul-bond, is when we get to give you all those orgasms you were denied.”

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◅ Back to Master List ©️       2022-11-24    ColorMePurplex2

[nodominion]

Ménage à Quatre (9145 words) by NoDominion Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Vampire Chronicles Series - Anne Rice Rating: Explicit Relationships: Armand/Daniel Molloy, Rose/Viktor (Vampire Chronicles), Armand/Rose (Vampire Chronicles), Daniel Molloy/Viktor Characters: Armand (Vampire Chronicles), Daniel Molloy, Rose (Vampire Chronicles), Viktor (Vampire Chronicles) Additional Tags: Foursome - F/M/M/M, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Blood, Vampires, Fangs, Blood Sharing, Rimming, Pegging, Blood As Lube, Smut in the last two chapters ___

Bonus chapter 6! Inspired by this tumblr post. Rose pegs Viktor.

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good- 

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed. 

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things. 

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’ 

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics. 

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered. 

“Do all women take this long to get ready?” 

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf. 

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring. 

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous. 

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms. 

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited. 

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have. 

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction. 

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away. 

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth. 

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm. 

You waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand. 

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?  

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far. 

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket. 

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack. 

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm. 

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce. 

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement. 

“No.” 

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.” 

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest. 

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . .  spineless.” 

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he. 

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him. 

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you. 

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred. 

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice. 

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together. 

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . . 

Aimed at his throat. 

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him. 

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

 You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. .  . the natural musk of his skin. 

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin. 

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it. 

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own. 

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in. 

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you. 

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole. 

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with. 

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain. 

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it. 

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’ 

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft. 

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair. 

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire. 

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood. 

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. 

“I wanted to.” You conceded. 

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused. 

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone. 

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably. 

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land. 

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now. 

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you. 

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you. 

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now. 

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating. 

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped. 

“Atreides.” 

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized. 

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . . 

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger. 

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier. 

He had been trying to warn you.

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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

[villainousshakespeare]

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 20

Loki/OFC Rated E: Trigger Warnings: Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved, drinking

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

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Loki had suffered many nightmares in his life. Just this past year, a relative blip in his long centuries, between the torture at the hands of The Other and the guilt at what he had unleashed on the innocent people of Midgard while under the influence of the Mind Stone, Loki had rarely experienced an untroubled night's rest. Not a single one of those nights filled him with as much dread as he was feeling now.

Here in this room was a woman who had put her entire life on the line for Loki. She trusted and believed in him in ways he had not known were possible. Not only had she saved his life, she was on the road to saving his soul as well. He loved her with a fierce passion that belied the brief time they had spent together. She was the most shining light he had ever witnessed.

That light was about to go dim.

When he first entered the room and saw her standing over his brother, gun that she normally would have trouble lifting held up with one hand while the other clutched the damned scepter, the whispering had started.

"Beloved," the voice slid into his mind. "I knew you would come. You could not stay away from me."

The whisper was seductive, and in different circumstances Loki would have been hard pressed to fight it. Now however he was too absorbed in trying to plead with Caroline. He knew the way the Mind Stone in the scepter worked. It preyed on fears and desires. And it seemed that what Caroline, his darling, precious mortal desired was justice for him. Where she could have longed for power or riches, she instead wanted only to protect and avenge Loki, to prover herself worthy, as if there would ever be doubt of that. It was that love for him that would destroy her.

"You can save her," the voice urged. "Just receive me back into your heart and mind and I will let her go. She will be free and we can be together again, complete our plans. I will make you a King and you will have her as your Queen."

"I am fine darling, truly. I don't need you to make him suffer on my behalf. Why don't you just give me the scepter."

How had that sentence come out of his mouth? He had not meant to say that.

"Um, no. That is a BAD idea!" Stark echoed his own statements.

"Shut up Stark!"

The last thing he needed was the distraction of the nattering human when he was trying to keep his focus on freeing Caroline.

"We're supposed to put the scepter in the case, remember?" Stark held out the box.

"No one is taking the scepter from me," Caroline clutched it along with the gun. "I mean to use it to -"

"To right the wrongs done to me?" Loki's heart broke a bit as he spoke. "My love, your human life is not long enough. And I do not need you avenge me. I just need you. Please, Min kjaereste, drop the scepter."

He saw her hesitate, and a small flicker of hope sparked against his better instincts. Maybe she was strong enough, inside where it counted, to resist the pull.

"If you have the scepter, you won't need me anymore. With it, I can be your equal."

"I will always need you, Caroline," Loki choked back a sob. And you are more than my equal, with or without the scepter."

His eyes met Caroline's, and he did his best to put all his heart into them, ignoring the whisper of the Stone and the chatter of Stark. Confusion flashed across her face. The scepter lowered an inch, along with the gun.

"What the hell are you all doing in my mother fucking office?"

"And more to the point, why has no one arrested the alien fugitive?"

"Pierce," Caroline hissed moving the gun from where she had it trained on Thor to target the secretary. "Just who I was hoping to see! Prepare to say goodbye."

"Who the hell are you?" Pierce demanded, unaware how close he was to death.

"I am your comeuppance," she answered. "Highest setting, I think."

It all happened so fast, but paradoxically time seemed to move in slow motion. The two men burst into the men just as Loki had begun to reach her. The whispering in his head stopped dead, and he knew what that meant. The stone was completely focused on Caroline. He saw her move the gun from where she had it pointed at Thor and instead took aim at Secretary Pierce. A man Loki hated and counted as an enemy.

The blast from the alien weapon would kill the man, there was no question. It would be one less foe for Loki to battle, one less person looking to put an end to his life. Loki did not enjoy violence the way many Asgardians did, but he would feel a decided satisfaction at the death of this vile human.

Caroline would feel no such thing. Not once the scepter was out of her hands. She would hate herself, tear herself inside out in grief and guilt. It would be Caroline who suffered nightmares, waking and in sleep.

Loki could not allow it.

There was no time to wrest the gun away. Already she was pulling the trigger. And so he did the only thing left to him.

Loki threw himself to one side, in front of Pierce, taking all of the energy from the pulse into himself.

The pain was overwhelming, knifing through his body like a series of razors. Every cell was shocked with energy. His mind, unable to process the level of anguish shut down.

"Caro," he whispered, her name like a prayer as he fell to the floor.

***

Tony Stark had seen a lot of chaos. Hell, he had caused more than his fair share. But it seemed that even he could be shocked at how quickly things could turn sideways. Maybe that was why he was the one to keep his head on straight when it all began going to shit. It was where he lived.

If you had asked him a week ago, he would have said no way would smart as a whip, head on straight, sensible Caroline ever fall for the murderous psychopath who had come close to wiping out New York. Turned out he would have been wrong. When push came to shove, people made stupid choices in love, and thank god they did, or Tony would be destined to be alone.

Over the past two days he had observed Loki and Caroline, and if ever he had seen two people as nauseatingly in love, it was them. He had also been shocked to learn that Loki, when not affected by the space rock, was actually not a bad guy to kick back with. Not that he would ever admit it, but the space viking with the bad devil cosplay fetish had a wicked sense of humor and good taste in liquor. And in women. He was coming close to being okay in Tony's books.

And so, he was less surprised by the others at what happened in Fury's office. Tony had made his own sacrifice play to save the people he cared about not that long ago. When Caroline aimed the gun at Pierce and pulled the trigger, Loki lunged to his left, taking the full force of the energy pulse on himself. Then came the chaos.

Caroline screamed as if she had been the one shot with a deadly weapon, Loki's name echoing through that room at a pitch that might have shattered glass. The scepter, that gaudy alien baton they had all been fighting over, fell from her hand along with the gun, forgotten in her rush to reach the side of her lover. Thor was there just as quickly, also shouting his brother's name as if hoping that alone could wake him up. Man, seeing the two of them made Tony glad he was an only child.

That left Fury and Peirce standing in shock as Loki, his brother, and his girl all hit the floor. It was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

"Enhance Ozzy protocol one to eleven," he said.

The music had been steadily pumping into his helmet since they opened the door to the lab, but now "Into the Void" screamed in his ears. It was hard to pay attention to whispers when Sabbath was blasting straight into your head. Protected by the genius that was metal, Tony ran forward and grabbed the doom stick, reaching it seconds before Pierce's hand.

"Stark, hand that over. That's an order," Pierce commanded.

Bad call. Tony had never been one for taking orders. They always made him want to do the exact opposite on sheer principle.

"Sorry, Secretary," he snarked, dropping it into the case he had made to snuff out its power, "no world domination for you today. Thanks for playing though. You've been a great contestant."

The case snapped with a satisfying click and Tony stepped back out of range, free hand raised to fend off any attack. Not that he expected one. Pierce had been around too long to make a move sure to lose.

The scepter taken care of for the moment, Tony redirected his attention over to the scene playing out on the floor. Loki was lying in a heap on the floor, Caroline and Thor hovering over him. Worse, Caroline looked like herself now, not a hopeful sign considering it was Loki's magic that had been altering her appearance.

"How is he?" he asked, unable to bring himself to ask the real question, whether Loki lived or died.

"He's breathing," Thor looked up, tears running down his face, "but his pulse is weak."

"Would someone tell me what the hell is happening here?" Fury bellowed at the room at large.

"Loki, wake up! Please wake up! I'm so sorry. Oh God, what did I do? Please wake up!"

Caroline's voice answered Fury with a string of pleas. Her eyes were wild, staring sightlessly at the man on the ground whose had she clutched helplessly.

"Stark. Details. Now."

"We were wrong about the invasion," he told Fury, switching off the music with a sigh. "It wasn't Loki leading the attack, it was the scepter. Or the people behind the scepter. It's a whole mind control thing. Turns out there's another big bad out there meaner and scarier than Loki and his space bugs. He was pulling the strings by way of the scepter."

"That's a pretty flimsy excuse, Stark," Pierce growled, still eyeing the case containing the weapon.

"Not an excuse, a fact. Director, tell me you didn't hear it just now. The whispering in your ear, telling you to grab the spear? That was the Mind Stone."

"I didn't hear anything," Pierce insisted.

"Yeah, that might say more about your mind than the stone."

"It did seem to be... whispering," Fury allowed.

"You are not seriously listening to these lies."

"This still doesn't explain why you are all here. And why Dr. Thorpe had on a different face," Fury ignored the Secretary.

"This new threat, it's coming for the stone in the scepter, wherever it is. We just figured it might be better if that wherever was not Earth."

"And you never thought to clue me in?" Fury demanded. "Or let me know that you were bringing a dangerous fugitive into our base?"

"Oh, like you and I haven't been dangerous fugitives ourselves in the past."

"Loki needs help," Thor interrupted, standing with his brother's body cradled limply in his arms. "I need to get him back to Asgard where our healers can tend to him."

"He is not going anywhere accept to the Raft!" Pierce insisted, not that anyone was listening.

"I thought Big Daddy didn't want anything to do with him," Stark reminded him.

"Loki is his son. He will want to help," Thor's faith in his father was touching. Tony just hoped it wasn't misplaced.

"I will not allow it," Pierce said.

"I do not ask for your consent. Friend Stark, will you look after Doctor Caroline? If fear she, too, might be in need of medical care."

Tony looked over to see Caroline sitting on the floor, head buried in her hands, sobs wracking her small body. Wordlessly he nodded to Thor.

"Very well. I will take the Scepter," Tony handed the case over to Thor with relief. His mind was his real source of power, and he had not liked being in such close proximity to a power that0 dulled it.

"Thor, I can not allow you to leave," Fury said, sounding more resigned than insistant.

"You are more than welcome to try and stop me. Now, I suggest you step aside unless you want me to have Heimdal send the Bifrost straight through the roof of this building."

It would have been funny under different circumstances to see how quickly Fury let him pass. Being a God did have its privileges, it seemed. As it was, Tony knelt next to Caroline and clumsily draped one arm over her shoulders.

"Hey, Doc. It's okay. Thor's going to fix Loki right up, and before you know it, he will be back to his old obnoxious self."

"I killed him," she whispered. "I loved him, and I killed him. Why?"

"He's not dead yet."

"Take the Doctor to the brig," Pierce insisted.

"What?" Tony looked at him in shocked disgust.

"She tried to assassinate me."

"Not hard enough."

"Stark!" Fury snapped.

"I'm taking her to the sick bay for a sedative, and then to somewhere she can rest. And as Thor said, you are welcome to try and stop me."

He might not be a God, but he did have a shiny metal suit and billions of dollars invested in Government projects. In the end they let him go.

"He'll be okay, Doc," he tried to reassure her. "He's too annoying to die."

He only hoped he was right.

So a bit of a departure here, giving the second half of the chapter to Stark. I tried to write it from Caroline's POV at first, but she was too overcome to really narrate properly. Her POV will be back next chapter. I've never written for Tony directly before, and hope it came out okay.

(ps - apparently Tony watches Stranger Things!)

Love you all!

[feral4daryl]

need a part 2 of sweet scent with pervy daryl trying to explain it to you but you couldn't get it cuz you'd never done anything like it so he says he's gonna show you how good it feels and has to muffle your screams so no one in the house hears you as his cock practically splits your tiny cunt in half and he uses his thumb to rub ur clit to try and make u relax.........

I'm crazy but I'm free

masterlist and other infos || MDNI

sweet scent pt2.

perv!daryl x innocent!fem!reader

summary: after getting caught sniffing your panties by you, daryl persuades you into giving your precious virginity away to him while your dad's just in the next room.

warnings: EXTREME AGE GAP (daryl's is in late 30s/early 40s and reader is 18 [or older, it's up to you]), 18+ smut, praising, dubcon? (reader lacks enthusiastic consent at first and daryl has to do some convincing), panty gagging, p-in-v, blowjobs, cunnilingus, masturbation, manipulation, petnames, daddy kink, orgasm denial, mentions of dumbification, mentions of degradation.

word count: 6.2k

a/n: the following content contains some extreme fetishes and kinks that some readers might find disturbing, so if you're not comfortable with any of those, please do not proceed. click here to read part 1.

<previous chapter>

[...] His movements got slower until they stopped and he let go of his now sensitive cock. He sighed after catching his breath. he was left with that afterglow and the feeling that he made a huge mistake. suddenly, he felt dirty like before. He opened his eyes slowly, removing your panties from his face and putting them in his pockets. yeah, he knew it was wrong, but he was still planning to keep them for later.

Then, when he averted his gaze to the mirror on his side, he saw...

You. Standing on the doorframe with a shocked look on your face.

"U-uncle Daryl?"

---

Shit.

You definitely weren't what Daryl expected to see when he opened his eyes, the remains of his freshly busted nut all over his hand and his cock out, fully on display. For a good 5 seconds, he just freezed, completely unsure of what to do. But then, it hit him. He freaked out.

His eyes got as big as they possibly could and he immediately pulled his cock in his pants back again, clumsily trying to regain his composure, taking a little longer than usual due to his nervousness. Meanwhile, you just stood there with an unreadable expression. You didn't look exactly shocked, or angry, or anything like it. You looked strangely curious, with your head slightly tilted to the side.

Daryl shook his hand to get rid of some of his essence that was still sticking to it and then rubbed it on the side of his pants, on the hip area. Still not capable of looking you in the eyes, he quickly glanced at your frame and finally broke the awkward silence.

“Y/N? W-What'r'ya doin' here?” Stuttering was very unusual for Daryl, considering that although he was a man of very few words, he was always very direct and precise with them. Maybe playing it cool as if you hadn't just caught him in the act was the way out of that unpleasant situation.

“Well...” You let out a small chuckle and took a step closer to him. “This is my room.” His awkward smile immediately faded away.

“Oh, uh... I was jus’...” He looked around the room, searching for anything to use as an excuse for being there. But before he could start, you interrupted him.

“I didn't leave with the others, daddy told me to stay here to take care of you. He's in his room.” Your sweet girly voice had a way of calming Daryl, making him a bit more relaxed despite the current scenario and the shame he was feeling. But at the same time, just hearing you enunciate that one little word 'daddy' had him taking a deep breath to control his urges and not have another erection right there and then. You said that so innocently, because, well, it was in fact innocent since you referred to your actual father Hershel, but still, Daryl's twisted mind made it sound suggestive in his head.

“Take care'a me?” He pondered. Daryl wondered why your reaction was so calm considering what you had just witnessed. Maybe you didn't see much.

“You know, somebody's gotta change your bandage.” You smiled and pointed to his head that still had the bandage around it. “Actually, can you step to the side a bit? So I can...” You gestured to the dressing table behind him. He didn't say anything and just did as you said, moving to the side a little so you could approach the piece of furniture. In that moment, Daryl was the definition of what they call a standoffish.

“I was expecting to find you in your bed, resting. As you should, uncle Daryl.” Your voice carried a hint of playfulness along with a sincere worry. But the way you called him uncle for the second time that day gave him mixed sensations. He wasn't sure if he was aroused or weirded out by it. Or both.

You extended your hand, meaning to pull the drawer open to collect the items needed to change his bandage, which included the gauze, antiseptic wipes, medical tapes, sterile dressing and other kinds of medical stuff your dad had taught you how to handle, but you had to stop your hand midway when you noticed a white slimy thing dripping down the furnishing.

He followed your eyes, noticing how stared at the liquid. The farmer's sweet young daughter had just noticed the results of Daryl's arousal while it coated the dressing table. His mind started rushing with apprehension, you could tell your dad and everyone else how much of a perverted old man Daryl actually was, and he could be kicked out of the group, being left alone in the woods to fend for himself. It's not that he wasn't capable to make it on his own, but his family was important to him, he didn't wanna lose them over that type of thing that could change the way they looked at him forever.

“What's this?” You bended your knees a little, leaning forward and squinting your eyes to take a better look at the unknown substance. Now, you had completely forgotten the reason why you came into that room that was changing his bandage. Daryl lifted one of his eyebrows out of confusion. Did you really not know what that was? If that was the case, it kind of made sense.

Of course. Living on a farm far from the city, you had a close-knit relationship with your family in a way that they were pretty much all the people you would interact with. You had never had boyfriends, or kissed, or anything remotely romantic like that due to your dad's overprotectiveness, after all, you were his youngest daughter. All you knew about the existence of sexual stuff had been taught by him, when he mainly warned you about the terrible consequences of that type of action and that you had to stay innocent.

You didn't really know what he meant by all that, since he was very vague in his descriptions about sex. Hershel just used to say that there were certain areas on your body that you should never let a boy get near and you knew better than to disobey your father's orders, being aware that he always knew what was best for you. Not even your own hands had ever darted down your body to meet those spots more than once or twice before quickly pulling away. You wanted to remain innocent, whatever that meant.

But Daryl was the observant type, and he quickly caught up that you knew nothing about that type of thing. He knew you had always lived in that farm, away from the perverted hands of boys your age (or older like him) so connecting the dots wasn't tricky at all.

Oh, the things he could show you. That thought alone brought a somewhat creepy smirk to Daryl's face as he stared into the wall, contemplating the opportunity he had in hands to finally have his way with you. He knew he still had to be careful though.

“Daryl?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. You turned your head to look at him before turning your entire body to face him. Your gaze was curious.

“This?” He motioned with his chin towards the dripping substance on the piece of furniture, looking out of place. “Ya don'... know wha' it is?” He double checked, wanting to make sure you were actually unfamiliar erotic nature of what you saw him doing.

“Well, I saw where it came from.” You revealed, not sounding accusing at all, just simply stating a fact.

“...How long 've ya been watchin' me?” He asked with an almost audible gulp. Though he was considerably excited about teaching you all that new stuff, he was still unsure if he should or not. It'd been so long since his last sexual interaction with someone else that he could barely remember it. And doing it with the daughter of the man that gave him a roof to put over his head in times like these? That was risky.

“A while.” You stated. Now, Daryl could notice how you started staring at his crotch area with a renewed sense of interest. That meant you had definitely seen his dick despite his efforts to hide it when he first got caught just moments ago. He wondered if you knew what it was or its purpose.

You stepped even closer to him and he couldn't help but step back slightly. “I've never seen somebody pee like that. Are you... Sick?” You raise an eyebrow. “The bathroom's just in the next room, you know...” Your worried tone was awfully adorable to Daryl. And well, he was indeed sick, but not in the way you meant it. Nonetheless, the amusing way you mistook his semen for urine made him share a light chuckle.

“Nah, tha's... Tha's not piss.” He bluntly let out. You walked across your room and over to your bed, sitting on its edge. Daryl followed you until he was standing in front of you. He crossed his arms.

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side with a sincere curiosity displayed on your face. You had seen the way he rubbed that one thing of his that you weren't sure how it worked until that slimy liquid started oozing out of it, deeply stimulating your curiosity.

“Ya sure ya wanna know?” His tone sounded more dark and his voice turned hoarser, however, that didn't seem to faze you. You nodded frantically. “Aigh', i'll show ya.” Once again, a smirk creeped onto his face. Your eyes were all sparkly as you attentively listened to him. “Sometimes people touch themselves ta feel good, ya know?” You shrugged, not really sure of what he was talking about.

As he spoke, he took light and slow steps towards you, like a predator preparing to hunt its prey, until his knees was almost touching yours. “Ya ever touched yerself, darlin'?” Despite the raspiness in his voice, it was now rather calm, with a surge of some sweetness to it.

“Like how?” You asked.

“Like here...” He extended his hand with a gentle movement, his finger tracing a path from the valley between your breasts down to your bellybutton. The slightly ticklish sensation made you flinch a little. Then, his finger continued making its way down to your lower belly, stopping inches above your clothed pussy. “'N here...”

Your breath hissed, and you started remembering how your dad told you those parts were sacred and shouldn't be touched by anyone, no matter who. The uncertainty was obvious in your face as you discreetly pushed his hand away. “Uncle Daryl...”

“Ya can call me jus' Daryl, sweetheart. 'M yer friend, remember?” He tried his best to sound convincing.

“Yes, Daryl...” You corrected yourself with an awkward chuckle. “I... I think I shouldn't.” You avert your gaze from his.

“Why not? Dontcha wanna know wha' it's like?” He leaned in a little closer, resting his hands on your thighs. You made a motion to try to push him away again, but he insisted on his touch. “Don' be scared, doll. 'M not gunna hurt ya. Quite the opposite.” He smirked while practically whispering the last part, making sure to sound extra coaxing.

You weren't really sure what you were afraid of, exactly. You just knew that you wanted to make your father happy and proud of you, since he'd always been so caring towards you and your family. In the end, you just wanted daddy's approval.

“I'm... I'm not sure. I don't know, it doesn't feel right.” You confessed, your voice filled with worry. Daryl knew how to be intimidating when he wanted to.

“'S okay, doll.” He spoke the way one would speak to a puppy. And giving you no time to protest, he used one of his hands to tug at the hem of your white tank top and pulled it up in one go, revealing your bare tits to him. He bit his lips, noticing you weren't wearing a bra. As quick as he did so, you felt so ashamed of your sudden nudity that you lifted your arms up to try to cover yourself up from his hungry eyes. “D-Daryl...”

“Shhhh...” He shushed you against your ear, making shivers run down your spine. Although you were uncertain, the way he spoke to you made certain parts of your body warm up, an unusual sensation for you. “Ya got such pretty tits... Ya shouldn't hide 'em away from me.” As he said that, he gently grabbed one of your breasts, giving it the slightest squeeze not to startle you. You couldn't help but let out a small squeak at the unfamiliar sensation. Weirdly enough, it felt good in a way you had never felt before.

“Ya like tha'?” He whispered. “It's nice, but... Daddy wouldn't like that. I just wanna make daddy happy.” You just wanted to be a good girl. Perhaps, you could find a different way of doing that.

“Yeah?” He muttered practically to himself as he got an idea. “Well, I can be yer daddy for today. Like tha', ya could make yer daddy happy in a way. Yer jus' gotta lemme lead ya, aigh'?” He didn't feel guilty in the slightest for making you engage in one of his twisted fetishes while you were barely aware of it.

“H-huh?" You were uncertain about the reason behind his suggestion.

“Ya can pretend 'm yer daddy.” He continued playing her mind. You weren't really sure if you liked the idea to depict him as your old man, but you tried to convince yourself to play along.

“But... What will he think of me when he finds out?” You fidgeted with your fingers. Meanwhile his grip on your breast continued to intimidate you.

“He don' have ta know. C'mon, dontcha wanna make daddy happy?” He conveyed in a hush against your ear, his thumb now grazing your sensitive nipple, making you feel that one funny sensation again. You couldn't help but lean into his touch.

You closed your eyes, darting your tongue out to lick your lips. The nervousness in you due to the newness of it all made your lips dry. The way Daryl was making you feel was curious, and you just wanted more of it. He took your silence as a confirmation.

“Good girl.” He cooed before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, very gently sucking on it. The feeling made you arch your back instantly.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

You just wanted to be a good girl. And if following Daryl's lead was a way to do it, you were all in for it. Your senses awakened as a cascade of unfamiliar yet electrifying sensations coursed through you, a dance of pleasure that tingled on your skin. In that moment, a subtle warmth enveloped you, as if you had discovered a secret realm of bliss previously unknown.

You reached for his head, the feeling of your delicate fingernails scratching against his scalp and pulling him closer sent tingling sensations all over his body. Instinctively, you slightly opened your legs at the pleasure and that drew a smirk onto Daryl's face.

“Eager fer daddy, huh?” The way he referred to himself like that made a faint blush spread across your cheeks, although you couldn't wrap your head around the reason why. It felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

“I need ya to trust me, 'kay?” He said as he pulled your shorts down and then tossed them aside, revealing your white cotton panties. Once again, you felt to urge to hide, not knowing how to deal with someone else seeing you naked for the first time. But before your legs could involuntarily close, his big hands groped your thighs, keeping them spread apart. “'S okay, sunshine.” He practically manhandled you, gently but firmly pushing your body downward so you rested you back on the mattress.

The new position made you feel strangely vulnerable, but it wasn't exactly a bad feeling. Your doe eyes had a mix of unsureness and curiosity as they meet his. Sensing the mixed sensations within you, Daryl leaned in to place a small peck on your plush lips, aiming to make you more comfortable. The feeling of his rough lips against your soft ones so suddenly almost made you flinch, but they felt rather inviting. As he pulled back, a confident smirk could be seen displayed on his face.

The archer's rugged fingers traveled their way down your body once again until they found the soft fabric of your panties, making your breath hiss. He brushed his index and middle fingers against your clothed pussy lips. Just with that, the dampness was so obvious that a small wet spot could be seen on the cotton fabric right where your slit would be. He dragged his fingers across it until they reached your clit.

“This lil spot righ' here...” He kept his hand there. “...is magical." For now, he just added a small pressure, testing the waters and watching close to your reaction, but that was enough to draw a whimper from you, the unknown sensation making you grasp his forearm. It indeed felt magical. You bit your lips and though you couldn't see it, Daryl shared a satisfied smile at the way he was able to get you all hot and bothered with just a simple touch.

Your legs squirmed a bit and he took that as a good sign, so he continued. Now, he started slowly rubbing your clit in circular motions over the fabric of your panties. Your back arched again, and you accidentally let out a dangerously loud moan.

“Nuh-uh.” He brought his other index finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet. “Ya gotta be quiet, ya hear me?” His tone was mostly reprimanding, which strangely excited you. You nodded, enjoying the authority he guided you with through those new sensations. You had touched yourself there before, but never like that. The sensation always felt somewhat wrong, but with Daryl, it was totally different.

You were still kind of upset at yourself for disobeying your dad, but the way Daryl worked his fingers so skillfully had you seeing stars. You never thought you'd be handing out your innocence for some old redneck you met just a while ago, but there you were, completely given to him.

In the beginning, Daryl used to always kind of avoid you, despite your attempts of trying to get to know at least a little bit about the mysterious archer. He knew that deep down, those desires towards you were always there, since the very first time he saw you. At first, he tried to brush them off, but now, all he wanted was to be the one to feel your tight virgin cunt for the first time.

In a swift motion, his big hands tugged at the hem of your underwear. “Up.” He ordered, gesturing for you to lift your hips so he could pull them down. You didn't argue at all and promptly did as he said, reveling in the control he had over you. It was like he dominated your weak mind. “Good girl.” He cooed once again. Oh, if only he knew what that did to your little inexperienced pussy.

After tossing the piece of fabric aside, he reached for you knees, gently spreading them apart. The sight of your glistening bare cunt had his mind rushing through all the things he could do to it. He wondered if he would be able to hold himself back and be gentle or if he would end up losing control. After all, he hadn't done anything like that in such a long time that his whole body was aching for it. He stared at it in an almost scary way, you'd never seen his eyes so hungry.

If his cock hadn't awaken until that moment, now it was hard as a fucking rock. He had to really fight the urges to pull it out his pants and dick you down right there and then, but he knew he had to take it easy on you at least for now and get you nice and ready for him, even though you were already visibly dripping wet.

“Is this all fer me?” His tone was almost mocking. You weren't sure what he meant by that, not fully understanding the concept of natural lubrication, but you just nodded with your eyes closed. Something about being in that position felt so right, so freeing that it had you wondering why you never did that before, and why you were so afraid of trying it in the first place.

Daryl's hands sensually traced their way down your body, exploring your every contour until they reached the back of your thighs, pushing them back until your wet cunt was all over his face. He tried his best to control himself, but his own arousal was practically taking over his mind, so he buried his face on it like a starving man. As soon as his wet tongue made contact with your sensitive little clit and he lapped at your abundant juices, you immediately gasped, gaining a look of disapproval from Daryl.

“I warned ya.” That was all he mumbled before taking your panties he had just took off you and sticking them into your mouth almost aggressively. You could taste yourself on the white fabric, and although it felt strange, it turned you on even more. Now, your little sounds were muffled by the piece of clothing as he resumed eating you out, flicking his tongue on hour clit and burying it between your folds. You never thought a feeling like that could actually exist as you experienced that overwhelming rush of pleasure, a novel sensation coursing through you sending shivers down your spine as a delightful warmth enveloped your entire being. You tried your best to hold back your sounds since your dad was home and could hear you if you slipped, but Daryl's skilled tongue and lips made it an extremely difficult task, even with your panties stuck in your mouth.

He continued working your clit with his mouth, and maybe a little sooner than it should, a tingling sensation forming in your lower belly caught your attention. Daryl noticed the obvious shift in your demeanor and took the panties out of your mouth so you could speak. “D-daddy...” You experimented the honorific he had previously suggested. “I-I feel funny.” You whimpered, squirming a bit harder than before as it started feeling as if you were gonna burst at any moment. Daryl smirked against your skin and gave your pussy a last peck before pulling away, making you whine in disapproval. It had only been seconds but you immediately missed the sensation. You craved it.

“Not yet, sweetheart.” He said. Not yet what, you wondered. But you still wanted to be good for him, so you nodded as the good girl you were. You couldn't think of anything you wouldn't do for him in that moment, considering how desperate you were to feel that pleasure again.

Your curious eyes followed his hands as they reached to unbuckled his own belt, setting it aside. He undid his pants and pulled them down just enough to reveal his boxer briefs to you. There. There was the place where you saw that sticky white thing shooting out from. Now, the excitement in you was unbearable as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements closely. Your eyes visibly lighted up and that didn't go unnoticed by Daryl.

“Yer gunna love this, lil' girl.” He bit his lips. Something was very obviously bulging in his boxers, which you found odd since it didn't seem to look so obvious when it was in his pants even though now it looked so big. Either way, you were completely drawn to it. You glued your eyes to his crotch while he pulled his underwear down.

You had heard about it, but you had never actually seen one of those before. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, his pubic hair had grown wild and untamed, a reflection of the makeshift survival and the absence of the once routine grooming practices. Not that he used to care a lot about that kind of thing before the outbreak. In a way, you thought it looked charming, suiting his rugged looks and personality.

You could feel your mouth starting to water at the sight of his cock standing tall and proud in front of you. Since the archer had touched his mouth to your cunt, you wondered if you could do the same to him in that same area on his body. As if he could smell your thoughts, he brought a hand to your head, gently pulling you closer to his crotch while he held it by the base.

“Ya wanna have a taste?” He slyly suggested and chuckled at your frantic nodding. Leaning closer to it, you felt the musky and raw scent that emanated from it, which made you even more drawn to the possibilities that ran through your mind. But at the same time, you didn't know what to do or how to handle it.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he collected some saliva from it and rubbed the wetness on the tip of his cock to lubricate it. “Gimme yer hand.” He reached out his hand, and instantly you complied, allowing him to direct it towards his cock. He enveloped your hand around it, keeping his atop yours, slowly starting to move it up and down. It felt warm and hard against your soft fingers, and the way he threw his head back and quietly groaned made your stomach churn with butterflies. “Fuck baby, tha' feels good.” He had to whisper due to the dangerous presence of your dad in the house threatening to put your little playtime to an end.

You smiled proudly at yourself. You liked the way he sounded and you wished to draw more of those grunts from his lips. And Daryl, being just as eager as you, removed your hand from his length, holding it by the base. His other hand found its way to the back of your head, his touch almost feeling impatient as he pulled you closer to his cock. “Open yer mouth.” He didn't have to tell you twice. Therefore, he guided his swollen tip to your awaiting tongue, smearing his salty pre-cum all over it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to hold back any compromising sounds.

Your lips instinctively closed around his tip, trying to mimic the way he sucked on your clit, aiming to make him feel as good as he previously did to you. The act not only gave him pleasure, but it also brought you a deep sense of satisfaction, making you hum against his sensitive skin. The vibrations from your vocal chords sent a chill through his body and he couldn't hold back this time, the warm sensation of your mouth being so tempting and promising that he pushed his hips forward a bit too much, causing it to hit the back of your throat and you to gag on it.

He immediately retracted his body, removing his cock from the velvety confines of your mouth. Your eyes got a little watery but you smiled either way. “Sorry, princess.” He said with a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

“It's fine, I liked it.” You confess, looking up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stood in front of you. Your innocent expression contrasting with the dirty nature of your encounter made him impossibly hornier, and he didn't feel like waiting any longer. “Fuck” He almost whined. Eagerness to feel you wrapping around him filled his body, so he grabbed you by the arms, not too rough so he wouldn't hurt you, and put on your feet against the pink wall of your room.

He brought a hand to your head, pressing it against the wall. You gasped a little at his roughness but soon you felt him brushing the tip of his cock on your slicky slit and clit. “'S gunna feel good, I promise.” He mumbled against your ear, making your body hair stand on end. The sensation had you biting your lips to try and not make any sounds, but your efforts were proven useless as you felt the pressure of his tip carefully going in your cunt, causing a burning sensation and you accidentally let out a loud cry.

Daryl's hand went immediately to your mouth, forcefully pressing his palm against your lips to muffle your sounds, your dad shouldn't hear Daryl using his sweet daughter in his own home after all. “Shhh, shhh.” He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head for a moment. You wrapped around him so tight even though he only had his tip in yet that he couldn't restrain himself from pushing his hips forward a little more, intensifying the burning sensation while he stretched your virgin cunt out.

“'S okay, ya can take it.” In that moment, you were confused at why he was making you feel so good just a moment ago, and now he's ripping your little pussy apart. But even though it hurt, it was somewhat pleasant to feel so full in such a new way, so you stuck your ass towards him, inviting him in. While still keeping his hand pressed on your mouth, he brought his other one to your hips, gripping them a little too tight.

Without warnings, he buried his entire length in you in one swift motion, filling you up to the brim and worsening the burning to a whole new level. The only thing that kept you from letting out a scream at the sudden invasion was his hand muffling your pathetic sounds and the fact that you'd be in deep trouble if your dad found out about that, but even so, Daryl couldn't help but quietly grunt at the intense sensation. He didn't know he missed fucking a warm cunt so badly until he was completely inhumed inside you. “Good girl. Yer being so good fer daddy.” He praised you. His words had an immediate effect on you, making your pussy even wetter, if that was even possible.

You didn't even care if it hurt or not anymore, so you just stood there, caught in the paradox of sensation — a mix of pain and pleasure etched across your face. The twinge felt like a sweet ache, and yet, an irresistible allure pulled her deeper into the experience, as if the discomfort held a hidden charm that she couldn't resist exploring.

Despite the pain, you found herself oddly drawn to the sensation, craving more as if the discomfort carried an inexplicable appeal that kept you coming back for another taste. So you slightly wiggled your ass against Daryl's body, moving his cock a little inside you. The feeling of being stretched out had you desperate for more.

Daryl's warm breath hit your ear as he let out a light-hearted laugh at your reaction, sending delicious goosebumps all over your body. His hips started going back and forth to meet yours in a sensual dance. He tried to be gentle at first, but your virgin cunt was just so wet and warm that he couldn't help it but succumb to his primal desires. “Jus' like tha', princess. Take this fat cock.” He whispered loud enough so only you could hear, making you weak in the knees.

His calloused hand let go of your hips to find your clit, starting to rub it with just the right pressure to make you squirm under his touch. The mixed sensations of intense pleasure and pain confusing your brain, making you melt like putty in his hands. Overwhelming waves of pleasure surged through you, leaving your head blissfully empty as if every thought had been swept away by the sheer intensity of the sensation, which was exactly what Daryl wanted, to turn you into a brainless little fucktoy for him.

If a few months ago somebody told you that you'd be letting some perverted older man take advantage of you in your own room, you would've laughed right in their face. Giving your innocence away to anybody used to feel like such a distant reality, and now there you were, pressed against the wall by Daryl's sweaty body while he mercilessly pounded your no longer virgin cunt, making you experience the most pleasurable pain you could ever feel.

As he continued bucking his hips like a desperate animal, you drooled against his hand, your brain now reduced to putty due to the overpowering sensation that dominated your every sense. “Nngh...” Your muffled moans stirred an even deeper desire within Daryl, turning him as primal as one could be. Your body language made it obvious that you were close to your orgasm, and this time, he didn't plan to deny you of it.

But you had never experienced something like that. You didn't know pleasure could get so extreme that could made you burst, so as the sensation built and grew stronger, it also made you unsure about where it was taking you, and you tried to fight the feeling. Daryl's skilled fingers working your clit only threw you even closer to the edge and you felt like your legs could fail at any moment.

Noticing the shift in your demeanor, he muttered against your ear. “Jus' let it go, baby. Trust me, don' hold it.” His tone was strangely sweet considering what you were both up to, but his encouraging words relaxed you a little, and as he intensified the rubbing on your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold it in not even if you wanted to, whatever it was.

Then, it hit you. An entirely unfamiliar and intense sensation washed over you, catching you off guard. It felt like uncharted emotional and physical territory, leaving you completely stunned, wide-eyed, and grappling with the unexpected intensity of the experience, something that almost made you mad at your dad from convincing you of staying away from it for so long.

Daryl had to intensify the pressure of his hand against your lips, but even so, he wasn't able to muffle your cries completely as your body convulsed and you were sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds. “Good girl, cum for me.” You didn't know what that word meant, but considering the situation, you understood that it probably had something to do with the new type of pleasure you just experienced.

As the orgasmic sensation slowly faded away, it was replaced with an even more overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. You squirmed even harder and you swore you could cry if he continued using your cunt like that, not giving you any breaks to catch your breath. You'd been turned into a whimpering and drooling mess, a total slut for his cock. You wanted him to have his way with you and you knew that if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you all day without arguing.

The intense clenching of your tight pussy around his length initiated his own orgasm, and now it was his turn to experience the compelling feeling of being right on the edge of pleasure. “Fuck, turn 'round." He desperately voiced, but he didn't even waited for you before decisively grasping your shoulders, swiftly turning you to face him. As he did so, he removed his cock from inside you and stroked it hard and fast for a few seconds with just enough pressure to make himself burst.

Your mesmerized eyes watched as the pleasure took over his body. And now, it all made sense as he started shooting his load aiming right on your bare pussy, just as he was doing earlier today when you first caught him in your room. The warm sticky substance coated your cunt and it was so much that it felt like it would never end, leaving you astonished. You couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

You two stared into each other's eyes while desperately trying to catch your breaths, sharing a small chuckle and satisfied smiles. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead and now, you knew who to come up to when you feel that funny feeling in your lower belly again. You knew Daryl had what it took to take care of your needs.

Without saying anything else, he pulled his briefs and pants back up again, adjusting his clothes. Then, he reached for his pocket, pulling out those panties he had stolen earlier and putting them on you again, leaving his load smeary and sticking to your skin. “Leave it there.” He hoarsely voiced, ordering you to walk around with his cum inside your clothes while no one else knew of it except the both of you.

“And these...” He walked over to your bed and bended his knees a little so he could reach for the white cotton panties he had tossed aside right before railing you and put them in his pocket.

“...'M gunna keep these fer later.”

a/n: omg guys the first part of sweet scent got over 1.1k notes and that's like??? insane??? tysm for all ur support, that's crazy. it was so much fun to write both parts and i'm so thankful if you read it this far!! i hope y'all have a great and happy holidays xx

taglist: @imagininghim , @murdadixon , @epilepsywarrior8787 , @darklydixon

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise. 

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes. 

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom. 

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine. 

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past. 

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface. 

Even he can’t protect you from this. 

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing. 

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem. 

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry. 

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one. 

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep. 

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness. 

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. 

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?” 

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.” 

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief. 

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades. 

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.” 

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.” 

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.” 

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake. 

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it. 

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what. 

You might never get to know. 

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep. 

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent. 

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you. 

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons. 

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.” 

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any. 

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.” 

You can only imagine how that went. 

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously. 

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door. 

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own. 

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.” 

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between. 

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..” 

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you. 

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do. 

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does. 

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” 

“You're tired.” 

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright. 

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm. 

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again? 

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response. 

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say. 

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger. 

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well. 

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask. 

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own. 

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago. 

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.” 

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position. 

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over. 

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.” 

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run. 

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him. 

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious. 

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.” 

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing? 

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good. 

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good? 

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil. 

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.” 

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head. 

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady. 

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.” 

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired. 

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch. 

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too. 

All he's waiting on is you saying the word. 

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something. 

The thought makes you want to cry. 

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump. 

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?” 

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book. 

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being. 

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face. 

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal. 

You need to rectify this, and fast. 

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety. 

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door. 

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?” 

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.” 

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back. 

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line. 

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news. 

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?” 

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you. 

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes. 

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin. 

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers. 

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.” 

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver. 

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it. 

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look. 

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room. 

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly. 

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”  

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.” 

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you. 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him. 

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal. 

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved. 

Well, you suppose he is. 

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much. 

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you. 

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg. 

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt. 

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric. 

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him. 

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?” 

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you. 

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely. 

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread. 

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you. 

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face. 

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans. 

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets. 

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.” 

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you. 

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips. 

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage. 

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you. 

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position. 

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk. 

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers. 

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth. 

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin. 

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday. 

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.” 

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs. 

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand. 

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips. 

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other. 

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his. 

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.” 

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position. 

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck. 

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat. 

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life. 

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat. 

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.” 

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again. 

You’re in for a long night. 

Taglist:

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[filmbyjy]

JAM OUT - ten! oi hadh saex weet heurrrrr

a/n: trying to remember all of the titles but having to rewrite everything sucks

-

synopsis > who knew you’d break the first rule of being in a friends with benefits relationship? maybe it was lee heeseung himself that made you catch feelings. either ways, he doesn’t do feelings and you knew that. as your relationship with heeseung strains so does the band. what happens then?

masterlist | previous | next

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[total-dxmure]

✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff.

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

“The fact that she’s military is the only thing saving her ass right now.”

Ellie kept her head bowed down low, her hands clasped in between her legs as she hunched over in the seat, making herself as small as possible. Her knuckles were bruised and scrapped to hell, the blood already dried and crusted. Most of the blood wasn’t hers, and if she thought about that fact for too long she’d probably have an episode. Either that or she’d throw up all over the sheriff’s office.

“Boss, I really appreciate you calling me instead of booking her. You have to understand that she’s in therapy and is on a shit ton of medications. Is the guy gonna press charges. . . ?” Hearing her best friend kiss up to his boss on her behalf had the vein in her forehead twitching.

“Technically the boy was shoplifting, so I doubt he’s gonna go forward with any sort’a legal action. I know she was trying to help, but she used excessive force. Beat the poor kid black and blue. . . I mean-” The officer lowered his voice, and Ellie could hear Jesse’s chair creak as he leaned forward. “His damn tooth was knocked out.” The sheriff whispered.

She closed her eyes tight, running a shaky hand over her face. She should own up to all of this and apologize. This was her fault, so why. . . why was she just sitting there? It was like she was glued to the chair, unable to move her head up. She couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. She was ashamed of herself.

Because she smelled like greasy, unwashed hair and cigarettes, was wearing the same pair of jeans she’d worn yesterday when he invited her over to his and Dina’s for dinner, and now he was having to pick her up at the police station for starting a fight.

A pack of beer. That’s what she’d pummeled the boy over.

He couldn’t have even been her age. He looked freshly legal, and something in her fucked up mind told her that it was okay to hurt him like that. The second that the nice elderly woman behind the counter had started screaming about a man stealing from her, some sort of switch had been flipped in her brain. Loud noises always made her feel anxious, but screaming like that? She couldn’t have stopped the meltdown even if she’d wanted to. So she dropped what she was holding and ran after him. What happened afterwards was. . . well, it was a blur. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and rubbed her temples, trying hard to remember.

Her therapist called them “PTSD episodes”. Random things triggered a breakdown: loud noises, gunshots, screams, flashes of light. . . they were unavoidable. She’d lose total track of time when it happened. One second the door to Ellie’s walk-in closet was closing behind her, plummeting her in darkness, and the next she’d be laying on her back in the middle of her room, balling her eyes out. Living like this was hell, but no matter how many mind-numbing pills she was prescribed, she still found it nearly impossible to function.

She didn’t want to scare her loved ones. When Joel called she just. . . lied. It made her feel dirty. It was wrong and she knew that, but it was better than the alternative. Being a liar was better than being a broken failure.

“Yeah, I’m doing great. My therapist is on to something, I think.”

“Come on, rambo. Let’s get you to bed.” Jesse placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, knowing better than to pat her on the back like he used to.

Ellie knew it hurt him to see her flinch under his touch. She swallowed back bile and stood up, practically having to drag herself out of the officers office. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t thank him or- or anything.

But then he did that thing. . . he thanked Ellie.

Ellie didn’t give a shit about the military discounts or the cheaper car insurance- she got a nice cushy check from the military every month just for breathing. She didn’t want pity or thanks simply because she didn’t deserve it.

“Thank you for your service, Williams.” The sheriff’s voice reminded her of Joel’s. For some reason that made it hurt even worse.

Still, her muscles tightened, and she worked hard to straighten her posture.

“It was my privilege.” It was a well rehearsed response. It didn’t even sound like her voice when she had said it though, and it scared her.

As she followed Jesse out to his truck, she tried to ascertain whether she was just beginning to disassociate or whether or not this was all just another strange side effect from her meds.

She blinked and suddenly she was already situated in the car, Jesse on the main road to get the both of them back home. He had the radio turned down to just a hum, his sleepy eyes glued to the road in front of him. The clock on his dashboard told her that it wasn’t just “late” anymore, but “morning” now. Ellie sat up suddenly, her heart pounding as she tried to map out exactly how many minutes she had just lost.

“Fuck.” She breathed, pressing her palms against her eyes.

She needed to call her therapist sometime today. She needed. . . She needed a lower dose of medication. There’s no way any of this was normal.

“Have you eaten?” Jesse asked, turning his head to finally look at her.

Ellie wished that he felt inconvenienced by her. Anger would be better than pity, but the look in his eyes was anything but annoyance. Jesse looked like he was close to tears. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and Ellie felt called to reach her hand out and place it on his shoulder. She wasn’t a very touchy person these days (and it’s not like she was to begin with), but he needed it.

“Not in a couple of hours.” Ellie answered him, letting her fingers dig into the soft fabric of his shirt.

He nodded and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. When Ellie dropped her hand and turned to look out the passenger side window, she could have sworn he lifted his arm to hurriedly wipe at his eyes. She couldn’t be sure though. . . seeing as she was now legally blind in her left eye. The wonky eye and the thin scar that started in the middle of her forehead and ended on her brow bone were the only physical reminders that she had of the explosion.

It seemed so miniscule compared to all of the shit that was going on in her head. She’d much rather have a destroyed body than a brain that didn’t work right anymore.

“How about you sleep in the guest bedroom? Dina’s probably worried sick about the both of us. Let’s. . . let’s spend the day together. Yeah?” It sounded like he was pleading with her.

There was a brief moment of heavy silence. No matter how much of a burden she saw herself as, the thought of going home right now frightened her. Ellie was terrified that she was going to end up all alone in this world, but she couldn’t stop pushing everyone away. It’s almost as if. . . she knew that she was bound to self-destruct at some point. She didn’t want anyone to see her like that.

“She’s going to kill me.” Ellie groaned out, dramatically banging her head against the headrest.

Jesse’s lips twitched up into a smile, but he was quick to try and mask it. “Nah. Dina? Mad at you for getting arrested at one thirty in the morning? No way.” His tone was sarcastic, and Ellie appreciated the fact that Jesse could still joke under circumstances like this. It made things feel almost normal. Almost.

Ellie winced, dragging a battered and bruised hand over her face. She had no idea why she’d been at the gas station picking up a bag of pretzels and a pack of ding-dongs that late at night. A documentary about the recently discovered Exo-planet was on the Discovery channel, and she’d actually worked up an appetite after it was over. She missed acting her age. Maybe that’s why she ended up getting into her Jeep. She was tired of feeling nostalgic and actually wanted to do something for herself. As minuscule as grabbing snacks from the gas station down the street was, it still felt out of the ordinary for her. Special.

Dina was sitting on the couch when the pair slunk into the house, walking on their tip toes in the hopes that the creaking wooden floors wouldn’t wake up JJ. Ellie froze in the entryway, green eyes wide as she took in the female’s crossed arms and death-glare. She was in trouble, which meant that Jesse was in trouble as well by association.

“Do you know what time it is?” Dina whisper-yelled, throwing her arm in the direction of the clock on the wall.

Ellie squinted her one good eye, noting that it was now four in the morning. She’d lost three hours. She should have been passed out on her prescribed sleeping pills by now, plagued by vivid nightmares. Instead she was intruding on her two best friends, and for what? ‘A pack of beer’, she reminded herself. A god damn pack of fuckin’ beer.

Ellie’s mouth went dry, her lips moving but no words escaping her. How many times had she apologized to Dina since she’d gotten home after the accident? Still, her best friend’s anger was better than Jesse’s pity. The sleeves of Ellie’s flannel tightened around her biceps as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Dina’s posture as if to protect herself. She slipped a hand up, covering her neck anxiously.

“I’m getting better, D. I’ll schedule an emergency meeting with my therapist and-” Ellie sounded pathetic, even to her own ears.

What she was doing couldn’t be called living. Ellie was simply existing and not doing a very good job at it either. She was tired of being tired. She blinked her misty eyes, turning to face the kitchen. She refused to cry. Once she started she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to stop.

Jesse and Dina’s shoes were all neatly laid out by the front door and JJ’s baby bag was sitting on the dining room table. This was a family that she had just burdened. Her eyes snagged on JJ’s highchair, and then the guilt was building right back up in her chest.

Guilt and jealousy.

Ellie had once had hopes of starting her own family eventually. When did she lose her grasp on that? On her lifelong dreams and aspirations? She wanted to help people- save people- so when had she become the one that needed saving? The marines hadn’t ruined Ellie. Ellie had ruined Ellie.

“No, you’re not.” Dina said simply, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “Ellie, look at me.” Her voice was commanding despite her sadness.

Ellie’s eyes fell to the floor, but she turned her head to face Dina, green eyes flickering up to her face. Bottom lip quivering, brown eyes misty- Dina looked miserable.

“You’re not getting better.” She whispered to Ellie, shaking her head to drive the point home. It looked like the words physically hurt for her to say.

Every excuse that she could have given dissipated. Suddenly she felt naked, utterly exposed. Every nasty, jagged scar was on full display. How many times had she said that to the people that cared about her?

“I’m getting better.” “I actually feel a bit better today.” “You don’t have to worry about me. The meds are really working this time.” Ellie wasn’t sure when it happened but she had become a liar. A damn good one too. Dina was looking at her now though, really looking at her, and Ellie’s face crumpled.

“Fuck.” Ellie whispered to herself, moving her hands to cover her face.

Jesse stepped behind Ellie, wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. A sob caught in Ellie’s chest and she strangled it before it could escape her. She couldn’t lose it. She couldn’t let her shoulders sag, couldn’t allow herself to feel everything in front of her best friends.

“I called Joel,” Dina finally said, leaning against the back of the couch, her knuckles going white with how hard she gripped the leather. “And he bought you a plane ticket. You’re flying out tomorrow.”

“No,” Ellie was already shaking her head before Dina had even finished her sentence. “How could you do this?” She felt the betrayal like a slap in the face. Her lips parted, eyes wide in silent desperation.

Please let this be a nightmare.

Her hand desperately flew to her arm, giving it a sharp pinch. The floor didn’t fall out from under her. She didn’t sit up sweating in her tangled sheets. This was actually happening. Actually real.

“You’re flailing, Ellie. We thought that eventually you’d level out,” Dina tried, taking a few steps towards Ellie and her husband. “But you’re only getting worse.”

“I’m getting better.” The well rehearsed line was the only thing she could think to utter. She prayed that eventually she could convince herself of that too. If she said the words enough times then maybe, eventually, they would become her reality. Perhaps she could somehow manifest her recovery.

“When was the last time you ate a solid meal? You barely touched your plate the other night. And I know you aren’t eating the food that Jesse drops off for you.” Dina was pointing out her flaws as if she didn’t see them all herself.

A full stomach meant nausea.

“When was the last time you showered?” The dark haired girl questioned.

Showering meant closing herself up into a tight space. It meant getting naked- seeing her scars. Remembering what happened to her and the rest of her unit.

“We know how this will end, Ellie. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of my life for calling Joel. I refuse to lose you like this.” Dina’s voice quivered as she spoke, but her eyes hardened. She was resolute about her decision.

Jesse’s arms tightened around Ellie and suddenly they no longer felt like a comfort but a prison. She needed air. Needed to call Joel and apologize. Needed to tell him that she was fine. She was fine. She would be just fine.

“I can’t breathe.” Ellie managed to whisper out, knees buckling from underneath her. It felt like the world was finally swallowing her up whole.

She was a failure. She’d failed Jesse, Dina, JJ and Joel. Why couldn’t she just be normal again? Why couldn’t she just fucking breathe.

Jesse let go of Ellie as she began gasping for air, helping to sit her down on the cold hardwood floor. It felt like everything around her had slowed down to a crawl, but her mind- it had sped up to a breakneck pace. She couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t turn off the thoughts and the images and the feelings.

She’d killed her unit. It was her fault that they all died. They had all been taken home in body bags, and what had Ellie gotten? A fucking government issued check every month that she blew on booze and a Purple Heart that collected dust.

“D, get the medication that’s in the cabinet and a glass of water.” Jesse called out to his wife. It sounded like they were underwater. She was drowning.

“She’s ripping her fucking hair out, Jesse.” Dina called out in panic, rifling through the medicine cabinet with shaky hands. Her best friend gripped her wrists, forcing them back down to her sides. Strands of Auburn hair were tangled up between her clammy fingers.

JJ must have woken up because of the comotion. She could hear him crying from the other room. Screaming for his mother.

Blood. So much blood. It’s coming out of her mouth, what do I do? What do I do about internal bleeding again? Wasn’t I trained for this? Breathe. She’s not breathing. Are there other landmines? Can I drag her to safety? Where is everyone else? H-How. . . How can I help?

“Swallow, Ellie.” Dina was crouched in front of her, forcing her lips open to slide a pill onto her tongue.

“It was my fault. I-I fucking,” She choked out, gagging at the taste of the pill that was beginning to dissolve on her tongue. “I led them out there. Oh, fuck.”

Dina was beginning to panic, pushing the plastic cup up to Ellie’s mouth in the hopes that she would drink. She did, choking back the water in deep gulps. The water helped to fill the aching pit that was beginning to grow in her stomach. Water poured down the sides of Ellie’s lips, but she kept drinking. Deep, thoughtful gulps of ice cold water.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Dina finally asked, her eyes flickering between Ellie and her husband.

“No. No hospital. Just go sit with JJ, alright? I’ve got her.” Jesse told her, letting go of Ellie’s hands so that he could wrap an arm around her waist, hugging her against his chest so that she couldn’t stand up.

Ellie blinked and Dina was gone, the sound of her bare feet jogging down the hall was the only reminder of her presence.

“Joel isn’t going to judge you, Ellie. We all just want to help. So let us, alright?” She knew he was telling the truth, but the thought of Joel seeing her as lesser-than killed her. She would crumble completely if Joel looked at her with the same sorrowful eyes that Jesse did.

Joel was newly retired though, and the last thing he needed was to put up with his PTSD-ridden adopted daughter. She was tired of feeling like a burden, but where had standing on her own two feet gotten her? Arrested on multiple occasions? So she relented. She surrendered to the idea of sleeping in her old bedroom and taking up space in Joel’s too-big ranch home.

“Okay.” Ellie croaked, feeling the medication kicking in. Sleep. All Ellie wanted to do was sleep.

“Okay?” Jesse repeated back to her, needing to know that she was serious. The last thing he probably wanted to do was wrestle Ellie onto the plane. He wasn’t entirely sure he could overpower her when it came down to it.

“Okay.”

Grief was an uphill battle. One minute you’re laughing with your friends and then the next you’re laid up in bed, tossing and turning with the realization that what could have been was now an impossibility. You missed Abby. You missed the life that you could have had with her. All of the memories and milestones you missed out on were soul crushing the second that the sun went down.

You were left in your empty house, laid up in the bed that the two of you once shared. Her scent had long since washed out of her pillow. All that was left were pictures and a gravesite that you still couldn’t bring yourself to visit. Life doesn’t stop when you lose somebody though. People eventually become less forgiving as the months pass by.

So you squeezed your eyes closed and hoped that sleep would come sooner rather than later. You had an early start tomorrow for work, and the last thing you wanted was to show up with puffy eyes.

Life was getting better though. The pain wasn't as debilitating as it had been months ago, and for that you were thankful.

One step at a time, one day at a time.

You were still breathing, which was exactly what Abby would have wanted for you. The overwhelming grief hadn't killed you, no matter how many times you'd secretly prayed that it would. You were still here and that was good enough.

For now, at least.

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[mitsies]

I know this is like so random but do you have any geto, gojo, nanami, or megumi ao3 recs because the only good fics I’ve read of jjk are ones you’ve written 😭

you have come to the right place :,) i post more recs than fics at this point haha most of these are copy pasted off previous rec lists but have been added onto! the ones with green + marks are NEW RECS

here's a post on how to use ao3 to find fics by yourself for those who dont know <3

gojo + ao3:

+ intrinsic warmth: my favourite fic of all time. like genuinely. insane writing, fucking amazing in every sense of the term. 2nd time recommending this! reader's character is so sick BUT updates real slow (which isnt a bad thing!! good things take time!!) so i wouldn't read if you aren't patient // 122k words, 15 chapters, incomplete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ the witches' brew: super cute fluff! reader owns a cafe, gojo is a regular, it's all around adorable // 2 chapters, 11k words, completed

+ all that is solid melts into air: arranged marriage trope! i haven't read but @/aanobrain loves this one // 7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ cake batter: established relationship w/ dad!gojo & megumi <33 not much to say, just short n sweet, i am such a sucker for dad gojo so its no surprise there's one of these on the list.. // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ best of luck: initial concept is really unique!! confessions, slight angst, takes place at the beginning/middle-ish of s1 i think? so cute loved this &lt;;3 // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ afternoon tea(se): gojo torturing megumi. classic !! so so cute love the banter // 1.7k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ my apologies, gordon ramsay: god i hate this man. jk. reader is a teacher and a functional human being; gojo is not. loved! // 8k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ a name known only to paper: platonic, angst- beautifully written, such a unique idea. reader is gojo's older sibling. // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ heart beats: another collection! i looove gojo in this so so cute i also adore bff nanami in the last one haha // 11k words, 3 pieces

+ exposure therapy: this is 1/2 of a 2 piece collection. when i read this for the first time i was floored- i love the creative take, and the reader's character (it was a 'she's so me' moment). this author writes with such a subtle but unadulterated take on love and i adore it // 5k words

+ how to be a human being: 2/2 of the previous rec and the perfect continuation in every sense of the term. oh my gosh, is this masterful- from the relationships & writing of megumi and tsumiki to gojo (i almost forgot this was a rec for him) it's all around amazing // 20k words

+ the sanctity of a name: SO SENTIMENTAL !! what an adorable work that rly goes into the psychology and significance of his technique + upbringing. so real and raw and very him // 2k words, complete, 1 chapter

+ assumptions: omf jealous gojo...... he's so cute in this!! you guys are married and it's almost his birthday, but while you're planning his surprise party he suspects something else.. // 6k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ even with the lights off: RAHHHH another fic that has me floored and pushing the #saveijichi agenda at the same time // 8k words, 2 chapters, complete

nanami + ao3:

+ math help: dad!nanami w son!yuuji.... yeah that's all i really need to say i think! // 1 chapter, 2k words, complete

+ photo albums: nanami shares abt his childhood! // 1k wc, 1 chapter, complete

+ i don't really read for nanami but i would check out @aanobrain and maybe shoot them an ask bc she's a big fan :)

geto + ao3:

+ lessons in love: DAD!GETO.................. im such a sucker for a good family dynamic in fics and this is adorable !! no curse au if i remember right! // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ forever is in your eyes: angsty but ends in fluff :,) touches on his mental state, riko's death, all that! so sweet, i adore how this author writes him <;3 // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ripverse: not really a series, more like a compilation of fics! it's got a lot of angst and the one titled 'interlude' contains smut i think so beware, and it's also a lovetriangle/poly w gojo-but-geto-goes-crazy-so-not-poly moment // 55k words, 8 pieces

+ dog days are over: a series!! by the same author who wrote ripverse which is how you know it's going to be brilliant !! marriage, parenthood, some nsfw moments // 30k words, 5 chapters, incomplete

+ curious cat: cat gojo and neighbor geto.. i love this one! it's so so cute and sweet, if you're looking for some light fluff this is definetely for you // 8k words, 5 chapters, complete

megumi + ao3:

+ complicit: college!au !! i remember reading this and loving it omg, the unique concept kept me hooked and interested, especially paired w the lovely writing! one of my fav series ive read. be warned, last chapter is nsfw // 18k words, 5 chapters, complete

+ a very special december 22nd: cute bday fic :,) forgive me for reccing all this author's megumi fics... theyre just too good !! i love the dynamics, all of it! // 5k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ kisses and cough syrup: THE BANTER!! THE FLUFF!!!!! i love this fic sm, so cute! // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ nocturnal: establishING relationship fics are one of my fav genres and this hits the nail on the head.. he's so stupid silly in this and i know you'll love it like i do // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ lover boy: 2nd year reader, annoying meddling gojo, placed at the beginning-ish where megumi gets beat tf up- what more could you ask for! // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ difficult to not overthink: todo strikes again! you ponder megumi's type // 1k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ ten confessions: megumi: ten dif confessions in dif tropes each time, so they can all be read as stand-alone pieces! so so cute and beautifully written.. we all know i love a good confession // 19k words, 7 chapters, incomplete

+ therefore, i am: reader gets mixed up in the world of sorcery.. megumi's there, too! // 3k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ takes one to know one: flowershop au..... convulsing on the ground. my fav trope, ever, and so so cute oh my GOSH // 2k words, 1 chapter, complete

+ i really (x6) like you: fluff!! this is the one i linked in my og ask but it deserves a place here too &lt;3 // 4k words, 1 chapter, complete

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | M.List & Intro

doll!enha (hyung line) x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), dolls, mentions of possession and demons, specific warnings on individual chapters synopsis: when you're strapped for cash and an opportunity arises to help you out, you're stuck in a mansion with 4 human-like dolls who do anything but sit still. taglist: closed!! a/n: hi! so this was actually inspired by this ask and originally i was thinking of making it a long one-shot but then i was like, what if each hyung line member got their own chapter? so here we are! below is an introduction into the fic so make sure you read it before going into the chapters! they should be released every 1-2 weeks but i still have to write them so it's tbd right now.

warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging.

wc: 7.7k

read here

synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements obvs

wc: 8.9k

release date: 30th April

synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return

warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, oral (m.rec), throat fucking, gagging, begging, pussy slapping, multiple orgasm denials, punishment, mentions of hell, supernatural themes

wc: 10.7k

release date: 7th May (subject to change)

synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion and help out but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house

warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m&f.rec), throat fucking, rough, kinda dom!hee, doggy, choking, pet names (baby, angel), mentions of demons, revelations and conclusion

wc: tbd

release date: 14th May (subject to change)

synopsis: with only 2 weeks left, you have formed a bond with each of the dolls, well, all of them except heeseung. as you snoop around his room to find out more about him, he gives you all the answers you're looking for and more

“How long for how much?” 

"Two months, 5k, just cleaning some woman's house," Mia responds, placing the newspaper in front of you with a dramatic flourish, the ad circled in pink glitter pen.

Taking the paper from her, you wrinkle your brow and examine the advertisement with scepticism and intrigue, "Isn't it strange that she's advertising in the newspaper? Who even reads these anymore?" Upon closer inspection, you sneer and return it to Mia, your fingertips leaving light smudges on the paper, "And she didn't even put her name, just 'Ms. Kim'."

This whole situation feels odd. What employer doesn’t post an ad on the internet like a normal person? 

"She's probably ancient, Y/N. Old folks aren't exactly tech-savvy," Mia offers, attempting to rationalise the oddity.

Despite your reservations, the need for employment weighs heavily. Losing your job last month has left little time for finding a new one, and the bills certainly haven't stopped coming. £5000 for two months' work is an enticing offer, especially considering your previous job paid a fraction of that for an entire month's work.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you contemplate the offer. The uncertainty gnaws at you, but the allure of some financial stability is hard to ignore. Mia watches you, her expression a mixture of concern and anticipation as she awaits you to make up your mind. She could use the money too, giving her some extra cash to pay for her birthday trip in a couple of months.

"You know what?" you finally say, breaking the heavy silence that hangs between you. "Let's give it a shot. It's just two months, right? And we could really use the money."

Mia's face lights up with a grin, her enthusiasm infectious, "That's the spirit! Besides, how bad could it be? It's just cleaning."

You nod in agreement, though a lingering sense of unease tugs at the edges of your mind like a persistent itch you can't scratch. Pushing it aside, you focus on the prospect of income and the relief it would bring.

"Alright then," you say, mustering up a smile despite the nagging doubts that linger in the back of your mind. "Let's do it. But if anything feels off, we bail, deal?"

Mia nods enthusiastically, already dialling Ms. Kim’s number on her phone, her eagerness palpable as she eagerly anticipates the adventure that lies ahead.

_____

The drive to Ms. Kim's house feels never-ending, with each mile leaving the city behind and the surroundings blurring into an everlasting blur of trees and road. You check the satnav, hoping for a break from the monotony, only to see that, tragically, it still shows an hour left on the journey.

The scenery outside appears stuck in time, with the trees going past in a repeated rhythm that does little to break the spell of boredom. You peek at Mia, who sits next to you in the driver's seat, her expression conveying a similar mix of frustration and resignation.

The radio drones on in the background, a pitiful attempt to break the quiet that hangs thick in the air. You reach over and fumble with the dial, hoping to find a distraction, but each station either plays static or music you've heard a thousand times before.

“You seriously need to get a better car, Y/N. I told you we should have taken mine,” she snips at you, the journey clearly getting to her. You had run out of conversation in the first hour, discussing your non-existent love life and jobs that you have applied for. Since nothing was going on in your life, there wasn’t much to talk about.

“We said we would take mine so she would feel pity and give us more money,” you grumble, sinking into your seat in protest. If this woman has enough money to spend on random girls cleaning her house, she could have some more to throw at you as charity; you’ll take anything at this point.

The drive continues until finally, you pull up to Ms. Kim’s house. But calling it a house feels like a gross understatement; it's a mansion, a sprawling castle that looms larger than life before you. 

A long gravel path stretches out before you, leading up to the imposing sand-coloured building. The mansion seems to bask in its own magnificence, the rustic feel and unkept garden only add a sense of eeriness to your wonder.

You exchange a glance with Mia, both of you momentarily speechless. This is not what you expected when you answered the ad in the newspaper. You expected it to be big, obviously, she wasn't going to give out 5k for a studio apartment, but this is on another level of anything you could have imagined.

Mia locks the car door, unsure whether to approach the large double doors. She outstretches her hand for you to take, seeking your comfort as she takes the first steps. You both look like you’re back in your first year of high school, scared that as soon as you step foot in the place, it will swallow you whole.

“We’re supposed to clean this every day?” you ask in disbelief.

Shaking her head, Mia tries to convey a sense of confidence in her voice yet it fails, “Surely not, the travel alone is too much for someone to do every day.”

With hesitant steps, you both make your way to the entrance, your finger reaching out to press the doorbell which rings a faint familiar tune, one you’ve heard plenty yet could never place the name. For a moment, there is only silence, and you begin to wonder if anyone is home. But then, with a creak that seems to reverberate through the very foundations of the mansion, the door slowly swings open, revealing a dimly lit interior shrouded in shadow.

A woman stands in front of you, her elegant clothes and neatly styled hair give her the appearance of a 90s supermodel. She doesn't resemble the idea you had of Ms. Kim. "Y/N and Mia?" she inquires, her voice smooth and melodious, a twinkle of delight in her eyes as she tilts her head with a smile.

You share a puzzled look with Mia. This woman could not possibly be Ms. Kim. For starters, she seems way too young to be the owner of this castle; she had to be just slightly older than yourself and you can barely afford to buy a loaf of bread. The advertisement plainly said that Ms. Kim was looking for help, hinting that she was an elderly homeowner in need of assistance. Second, the decision to advertise in a newspaper rather than somewhere like Indeed does not fit the image of a 20-something.

Your mind races with questions, but before you can express your reservations, the woman motions for you to follow her into the mansion. With a shared look, you and Mia exchange a silent agreement, remembering that you promised to bail as soon as anything got weird. 

As you cross the threshold, the heavy wooden door slams behind you with a bang and you follow the mystery woman deeper into the mansion's maze halls, you can't help but feel like there's more to this situation than meets the eye.

“My name is Kim Soonyeol, Ms. Kim is probably how you know me. I am so happy you answered my ad so promptly! I was scared no one would answer it,” she explains.

Walking through the large hallways, you notice one thing that seems to be a prominent feature.

Dolls. 

Lots and lots of creepy, old-timey porcelain dolls. They line the shelves, perched on antique furniture, and seem to stare at you with unblinking eyes as you pass by. Their features are fixed, ranging from serene to sinister, each contributing to the feeling of discomfort in the air.

Mia's grip on your hand tightens, and you can feel the tension radiating from her as she whispers, "Do you think they all have cameras in their eyes?" Her words send a chill down your spine, and you can't help but entertain the unsettling thought.

The woman leading you through the mansion seems unbothered by the presence of the dolls, her demeanour calm and composed as she gestures for you to follow. But you can't shake the feeling that there's something deeply wrong about this place.

"I am going away on some business for 2 months," she begins, her voice echoing through the cavernous halls, "and I need you to clean this entire house from top to bottom as well as a few...other errands."

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. Soonyeol is ominous in her explanations, not delving any further into these ‘errands’. It's strange to you, why can’t her house stay stagnant for a month or two?

“There are a lot of rooms, Ms. Kim,” you comment, hoping she might open up and explain anything about this castle and why the fuck it is filled to the brim with porcelain dolls. It’s not exactly a young person’s hobby to collect these things - unless they’re haunted, then you know you need to take a sharp turn for the exit.

She smiles fondly, “Yes, each bedroom is designated to a precious doll of mine,” she offers as an explanation but fails to give any clarity.

“She is fucking crazy,” your friend whispers to you, her hand now gripping your arm as she walks slightly behind you, letting you take the lead in case of danger. 

As Soonyeol gestures towards a room at the end of the corridor, she announces, "And this is your room. I've made sure I at least cleaned this before I left," punctuating her statement with a chuckle. With a flourish, she opens the door, revealing a space that dwarfs your flat and the corner shop it sits above.

But your confusion quickly turns to apprehension as Soonyeol's words sink in. "Wait, what do you mean 'our room'?" you interject, trying to mask the rising unease in your voice. "Isn't this just a cleaning job?"

Soonyeol's expression shifts, her eyes widening with a hint of anger as she leans back and places a hand on her chest. "Wasn't I clear in the ad that you would be housesitting?" she retorts, her tone laced with irritation. "I cannot leave my babies here on their own. They can't fend for themselves."

A chill runs down your spine as her words sink in.,"Babies?" you repeat, your mind reeling at the implications of her statement, "What do you mean by that?"

But before you can press for answers, Soonyeol is already ushering you and Mia out of the guest bedroom and into another part of the mansion. As you step into the dining room, you're met with a sight that you can't quite put into words.

Four figures sit at the dining table, their faces with different expressions and their bodies unmoving. At first glance, they appear to be ordinary people, but then it hits you like a bolt of lightning - they're not real. They're dolls, human-like dolls arranged as if they were waiting for a meal that would never come.

A shiver runs down your spine as you exchange a horrified glance with Mia. The realisation sinks in like a stone in the pit of your stomach - this woman is not just eccentric, she's fucking unhinged. And as you stand in that surreal dining room, surrounded by figures that seem to stare back at you with empty eyes, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread settle over you like a suffocating fog.

Despite Mia’s step back, you move forward, looking at them in detail. They are exquisitely done, each of them with their own unique features and life-like skin. You knew dolls like this existed but not to this level of detail. They must be worth thousands of pounds, easily in the double digits.

“If you cannot stay then I will have to look for someone else,” she starts to dismiss you much to Mia’s relief; she is already mentally back in the car and screeching out. 

As Soonyeol's words hang in the air, the weight of her ultimatum settling heavily on your shoulders, Mia visibly relaxes, relief evident in her demeanour. She's already mentally back in the car, ready to screech out of this bizarre situation.

But your attention is drawn to one particular doll seated at the dining table. His eyes, although lifeless, seem to pull you in with an inexplicable allure. He's striking, meticulously detailed with dark cherry-red hair, wide lips, and a figure that exudes an almost ethereal charm, even in his simple white t-shirt. His eyes, though small, are framed by long lashes that only add to his beauty.

Before you realise what you're doing, your mouth begins to speak, surprising both you and Mia. "I can stay, sure," you hear yourself say, the words tumbling out with a sense of inevitability.

"What?" Mia's incredulous voice snaps you back to reality, her eyes wide with disbelief as she pleads with you to reconsider, "You can't up and move your life for 2 months!" she warns in a hushed tone, her concern palpable.

“I don’t exactly have anything to go back to,” you shrug, knowing that all that awaits you back in the city is unopened bills and mouldy cheese. Mia has much more to lose, a job and boyfriend aren’t exactly something you can just upchuck.

"You go home, and I'll do it," you suggest, a plan forming in your mind as you speak, "You can visit on your days off and help me out. I'll make sure you get half the money."

Mia doesn't look entirely convinced, but the thought of such a large sum of money for minimal work seems to appeal to her pragmatic side, "Will you be okay?" she asks, genuine concern etched into her features.

You consider the question carefully, a strange sense of reassurance emanating from the dolls behind you, despite their unsettling presence, "I will be. If anything happens, I'll come straight home," you assure her, your voice steadier than you feel.

Reluctantly, Mia agrees, nodding her head as she steps to the side to speak with Soonyeol and gather more information about the job. Left alone with the dolls, you can't help but steal one last glance at the cherry-red-haired figure that caught your eye earlier. But something is different this time - the smirk on his lips and the narrowed gaze in his eyes seem almost... knowing. 

Was he doing that before?